Two Separate Paths
by Isriien
Summary: POST-INHERITANCE. It has always been Abigail's dream to become a Rider. She has only one chance but fails even though her brother, Walker, becomes the new Rider. Walker and Abigail are forced on two separate journeys that will lead them far and wide.
1. A Rider and a Magician

"It's here! It's finally here!" Abigail trembled with excitement beside him. Walker had always admired his twin for her longing to be great and her determination to do so. Ever since he could remember Abigail had talked about how she would become a rider and do great things that would be sung about for ages to come. She never once doubted herself. An attribute he admired.

They were edging closer and closer to the front of the line. Only about five people were in front of them, waiting for their chance to touch the dragon egg. The egg had traveled through almost all of the other cities in the Empire, as well as Teirm, and now finally it had arrived in Carvahall a few days earlier. Practically everyone over the required age of fifteen and less than thirty years of age was eagerly awaiting their chance of touching the egg. Fifteen was rather young since a person did not reach adulthood until they became sixteen, but Queen Nasuada, who had reigned long ago, insisted that the age limit be extended there because Saphira had hatched for Eragon when he was only fifteen.

Walker looked over at his sister as she rotated standing on the balls and heels of her feet. He could tell that she could barely contain her excitement. "Can you believe it!" She said to him. "I'm finally going to become a Rider."

"Don't get you hopes too high up, Abby. There's still a chance that it might not hatch for you." He told her.

"No, there isn't." She stared at him with a dead serious expression. Frown lines showed up on her forehead as they had always done since she was little. "It's going to hatch for me. It has too. This is my only chance. If it doesn't hatch for me, another dragon egg won't come back here for years. The day I turn sixteen Father is going to marry me off to that pig-headed Tomsson, Mandel. That can_not_ happen. This is the day I will be able to change my destiny. I'll be able to take charge and do what I want to do. No one will be able to stand in my way_, _especially not Father. This is my only chance." Her gaze seemed far away as she gazed at the violet dragon egg sitting on its pedestal.

"I just don't want you to get crushed if it doesn't hatch for you, that's all." He said in a low gentle undertone. Walker loved his twin with all of his heart. They were connected somehow. He would be crushed if she got crushed and so it was the other way around also. If something happened to one of them, the other would know about it. There was a bond between them unlike normal twins.

Abigail's head snapped back to look at him. Anger could be seen clearly in her eyes. "You're just jealous." It came out as only a whisper.

"What–." Walker drew his head back in shock. "No I'm–."

"Yes, you are. You're jealous that you have to stay here to take on Father's blacksmith because you're the next _man of the family_. And you don't have the guts to try to change your destiny either. You don't want me to be a Rider because you can't."

Walker reached out to touch her arm but she wrenched it away from his grasp. "Don't touch me!" Before he could say anything one of the men standing by the egg said, "Next," and pointed to Abigail. She stepped away from Walker and proceeded toward the dragon egg without a single glance back at him.

Abigail intertwined her fingers together to keep them from twitching with excitement. Here was her chance. She lifted her head up high and walked confidently to the pedestal with the egg sitting upon it. The egg was a deep rich violet color with shades of black stitched into it like an intricate design. When she touched it, its surface was cool and smoother than silk. _This is it!_ A smile twitched at the sides of her mouth.

She stood there touching the egg for almost a minute. Nothing happened. Slowly the beginnings of the smile evolved into a frown. _Why is nothing happening? Why isn't it hatching for me? _Frown lines creased on her brow. She looked toward the man who had called next. The man just looked at her with a dull expression and jerked his chin up indicating that she should move on. He had no idea that the woman standing before him had just had her dream shattered.

Abigail didn't know what to do. _This wasn't suppose to happen. No! It wasn't suppose to go this way. That egg was going to hatch for me!_ She could feel the urge to cry coming. Along with everything else, she felt more embarrassed than ever before. Her legs seemed to twitch with pent-up energy that fueled the urge to run. So she did. She ran. She ran out of there like an idiot and she didn't dare look back.

Walker watched her run out. He had feared that this would happen. He was about to run after her when the man by the egg said, "Next," and pointed at him. Walker had only wanted to be there for his sister when she touched the egg, he hadn't meant to touch it himself. The man must have thought that he wanted to touch it. Walker was dumbstruck. _What should I do?_ Before he could think of an answer, the man said, "Next," again a bit more loudly and with a hint of impatience.

Walker hurried up to the egg. He looked down at it. The light of the room reflected off of the glossy shell of the egg making it glisten. As he looked at it, something seemed to pull him to it. The color, luster, the shape captivated him. He felt a low thrumming in his chest. Without even meaning to his hand reached out and touched it.

At first it felt cold but then it warmed up underneath his hand and the warmth spread through his whole being. It reminded him of many winters where he and his family would crowd around the fire in the hearth trying to warm themselves by its heat. He closed his eyes and seemed to sink back into the memories as if he was there again.

The thrumming in his chest grew louder, louder, _louder_, until it rang in his ears. He opened his eyes as the egg started to move back-and-forth beneath his hand. _This can't be happening._ Walker quickly pulled his hand away in shock. His feet were frozen in place and his eyes were glued to the hatching dragon egg. It rocked for what seemed like minutes to Walker. The rocking increased in speed until it suddenly stopped. Everyone was completely silent as they waited. A cracking sound rang through the hall. Cracks started appearing first on the top of the egg and then spread until there were numerous cracks all over. Pieces of the egg fell to the floor as a dark violet snout poked through.

The dragon hatchling climbed out of the egg and then pushed the empty shell to the floor. It sat on the pedestal as it took in its surrounding. Its eyes were a dark shiny black and its claws and spikes were the same color also. The rest of its body was a very dark violet with shades of black here and there just like its shell. The dragon was as long as his arm and as tall as his knee. Soon the black eyes focused on Walker and the dragon extended his neck toward him.

"Touch him." said the man by the pedestal. His gaze pierced Walker now as if he was trying to find out everything about him.

Walker looked back at the dragon. This was out of the blue. There was no way it was true. _Abigail has always been the one who wanted to have an adventure, not me. What am I going to tell her?_ The hatchling made a sound in its throat that drew Walker's attention back to him. Walker stepped forward with his hand outstretched and touched the dragon on the neck.

An icy cold sensation shot up his arm. He wanted to scream from the pain but he could not move an inch. It was the coldest feeling imaginable but it stung like fire. If he could have moved he would have collapsed in pain and his body would have shaken like he was having a seizure. As suddenly as it came the feeling went away. Walker let out a sign of relief when the feeling was gone.

The dragon hatchling was licking his still outstretched palm. On the palm of his hand was shining a circle, gedwëy ignasia. He felt sick to his stomach and he felt like his head was spinning. His body started to lean forward in a faint but he caught himself as he gripped the edges of the pedestal. The, no, _his_ dragon stared at him. Walker extended his hand to it again and the dragon climbed up his arm and settled itself around his neck and across his shoulders.

The man came over to him and gripped his wrist and raised Walker's hand above his head. "Here is our new Rider!" The crowd cheered. Walker was sure though that he saw some people with very sour faces as they left. _I can't believe this has happened to me._ There were no other words that came to his mind to think. It was all just too unbelievable. He expected to wake up any moment now and know that it was all a dream, but he never did.

His dragon nuzzled its snout against his cheek. It felt as real as ever. This was no dream.

* * *

><p>Abigail had always liked running. If something bothered her, she would go out to a deserted place in Palancar Valley and she would run for miles. The burning of her legs distracted her mind from whatever was bothering her. It never failed.<p>

Running through the streets of the city was a new, and dangerous, challenge. She had to dodge people, buildings, animals, etc. which slowed down her pace. It seemed like that after every few feet she would trip on something. As she tripped over and over again she only got angrier and more frustrated than ever. Unlike it usually did the run did not cool her thoughts.

After a few minutes of running she felt a sharp pull on her mind. It made her lose her bearings and she tripped and fell down on the road. When she looked at her hands, a lot of the skin was scraped off and some parts of her palms where bleeding. She sucked in her breath as pain raced all over her hands. When she got back up onto her feet, she was careful to use her elbows to push herself up.

The sharp pull came back even stronger than before. It pulled her back to where the dragon egg was, and Walker was there too. Something was happening. _I should go back. No! I can't face those people, and that stupid egg. It should have hatched for me! It should have hatched for me._ Tears blurred her view and she wiped them away before they had a chance to fall.

Even stronger than before she felt pulled back to where she had wanted to escape from. _What if something happened to Walker? I just have to go back._ Hesitantly she turned around and ran back. She took care to navigate through the city with greater care than before so she didn't trip as often.

Soon the hall where they kept the egg was in sight. She climbed up the steps two at a time. More people than before were crowding around the doors. _What's going on?_ It made her anxious with all those people around. _Something big must be happening and Walker may be in trouble._ Abigail dove into the crowd and jostled her way through rather harshly to get to the doors. She ducked behind an arm to get to the front of the crowd and she was finally able to see what was going on.

"Here is our new Rider." The violet dragon hatchling was curled around the neck of the new human Dragon Rider. And that Rider was Walker! All around her, people raised their hands and cheered. She did not cheer along with them. That was suppose to be _her_. _How could he?_ She had thought that her heart could not be shattered any more than it had been when the egg had not hatched for her. Now she realized that she had been wrong.

She turned around and fought her way out of the crowd and started to run again. This time she could not contain the tears begging to be spilled. She did not pay attention anything. That day she could not tell you where she was headed or for how long she ran. All that existed was the burning in her legs and in her chest as she felt her heart tearing at the seams.

When she stopped, she was far away from Carvahall out in the middle of a deserted field by a stream with a rocky shore. Her knees folded under her and she crumbled to the ground. For minutes or hours, she could not tell which, she cried and wallowed in her sorrow and anguish. Everything seemed too much to handle. A year from now she would marry that donkey-faced Mandel and she would be forced to live where the only importance of her life was to bear sons. She dreaded that life. Ever since she was born her father forced upon her the life her heart rejected. Her mother lived like an ideal woman to her father and by some miracle she was happy living like that. For fifteen years she fought after a dream where her importance was more than to merely marry and reproduce. Now all of those fifteen years of fighting were left wasted. Every remark, every look, every thought about how she wasn't strong enough or that it wasn't her place (he had _many_ arguments) her father had had toward her all of those years were true. He had won.

_Walker._ That name plunged an icy dagger of hate into her soul. How dare he! All those years he had gone behind her back. _I bet he was planning on stealing that place of a Rider from me all along. I trusted him and he stabbed me in the back._ _I bet he never believed in me any way. That's the real reason he was warning me about how it might not hatch. _Not _because he cared for me. Or he was trying to wear me down so I wouldn't try and be picked before him. Intimidated, is he. Yes! That was it._ Her rage and anger ripped whatever love she had had toward her twin brother into shreds and replaced it with deep hate.

Slowly she sat back up and stared through the clear creak water at the rocks below. She did not cry anymore. Her sorrow and hate subsided but were still ever burning like a hot bed of coals ready to flare back to life at a moment's notice.

Now that she was calmer, the pain in her hands was as horrible as ever. She looked down at her palms. They were cherry red with dried blood all over and the cuts were beginning to scab. The hurt was unbearable to her. The pain was the stick that stirred the bed of coals. It brought back all of her pain and hate but this time directed toward her hands. The hands could do nothing about it of course but she could not swallow the hate down. _Why don't you heal yourselves and I can be done with you?_ She wanted them to be healed immediately.

Abigail followed her hate back into the depths of her consciousness and this time she found something. It was like a wall that she could not get past. It reminded her of all that she could not do now that she hadn't become the next Rider. And it annoyed the sense out of her. She drew back from that wall and ran back into it with all of her might. The wall shattered under her force. Energy flowed into her and thrummed through her entire body. She felt powerful. She _had_ power.

The thrumming made the pain in her hands intensify and once again she wished they would heal themselves. Suddenly, she felt as if the air had been knocked out of her and she had trouble seeing through black spots that were clouding her view. For some reason she felt exhausted. By instinct she let go of the energy even though she hated to do so.

Along with the energy the pain in her hands was gone. She looked down and the skin was newer and smoother than ever before. As she realized what had happened a mischievous smile spread across her lips. The world had dealt her some serious blows. She had been helpless. But _now_ she could strike back.


	2. A Strong Name

_Abigail is going to kill me when she finds out. I never meant for this to happen. She probably thinks I betrayed her. But I never intended to do this. I never wanted to take the spotlight or steal her dream. And yet this still happened. _Walker rubbed one of the dragon hatchling's scales with his finger. The texture was like that of the wood on the inside of a tree when it's just been cut. The dragon hummed softly in his lap.

After the egg had hatched, Walker and his dragon had been taken into a back room by the man by the pedestal. Walker sat in the first chair he saw to get off of his wobbling knees. His mind had been spinning and he took a few moments to smooth his breathing.

It was not for a while until he noticed that there were two other people in the room with them. They were all standing as they stared silently at Walker and the new hatchling. There were two men and one woman, including the man that had led them into the room. The man from earlier was more than six feet tall, his hair was completely gray and pulled back into a short pony tail, his mouth was set into a straight thin line, and his eyes, that were still studying Walker and the hatchling, had a very angular shape and were crystal blue. It seemed like those eyes could stare straight into a person's soul. _Maybe they can._ As quickly as the thought came, Walker dismissed it. Around his neck was a golden chain necklace that he was fiddling with in-between his fingers.

The other man was shorter and very stout. He had bulging muscles all over his arms and chest that gave him the look of being fat rather than strong. A tattoo lay on his upper left arm. The tattoo was of a snake twisting itself into the shape of an eight on its side. It was the sign of the Du Vrangr Gata, an organization that was made up of all of the magicians in Alagaësia, well actually just all of the human ones. The man's skin was black which was unlike anything he had ever seen even though he had heard tales of the wandering tribes having that type of skin. On the man's bottom lip was a gold ring that twinkled in the light whenever the man moved. The man's nose was very flat and wide and his eyes were beady like a lizard's.

As if she was lounging, the woman in the room was lazily leaning on the wall by the only window. Sunlight poured over half of her face while leaving the other half shrouded in darkness. She looked to be about his age even though there was something about her that told she was many decades, maybe even centuries, older than that. Her light brown hair was severely pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck. She folded her arms over her stomach and he saw a long red scar running from the wrist of her left arm up to the middle of her upper limb. Her ears were rather pointed but not nearly enough to be an elf's. She stared at him with hazel eyes as if bored with what she saw.

Suddenly, the floor beneath Walker shook as a big thump sounded throughout the city. When the shaking ceased, he looked up out of the window and saw a large golden eye staring back at him. The iris was the size of two human heads put together. The dragon it belonged to was one of the biggest Walker had ever seen and he only needed to see part of its snout to see that. Most of its snout was covered in golden scales but streaks of scarlet red ran along the top of its head and along its mouth. Walker's dragon hatchling made a sound like a friendly yelp at the older dragon who quietly growled in response as a greeting.

"Ah, now we are all here." The tall man said. He turned toward Walker. "What is your name, boy?"

Walker took a big gulp in an attempt to try to clear his throat. He wasn't sure if he would be able to speak but he tried anyway. "Wal– Walker. Walker Moransson." The words stumbled clumsily out of his mouth and he cursed himself in his head with how pathetic he sounded. They were probably all thinking that the hatchling had made the wrong choice just like he was thinking. _Abigail would have done so much better._

"You are the next human Rider, Walker Moransson. It is a pleasure to meet you. You are the lucky one that he has hatched for." He made a motion with his head toward the dragon. _So it's male._ "My name is Rhylite and this is–."

"Bardan, High Ambassador of the Du Vrangr Gata," the dark-skinned man said.

"And I am Vesta and this is Eridor, the dragon I am partnered with." She made a motion with her hand to the window but the dragon, Eridor, did not move except to blink as he stared at Walker and his dragon.

"The four of us, for the past two decades, have been charged by King Valorn to take this egg across the Empire to be touched by thousands until it hatches." Rhylite said. "Once the egg hatches, we must also protect the new dragon and rider and lead them safely to the capital, Ilirea. There they are to stay until both of you grow strong enough to travel to the east to be trained by other dragons and riders. You do understand?"

Walker nodded. _This day just keeps getting better,_ he thought sarcastically. The thought of leaving everything he had ever known sickened him. Rhylite was about to speak again when Walker said, "Wait." They all stayed silent as they waited for what he was going to say. He cleared his throat again and looked up at them. "This shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have been me."

"What do you mean?" Bardan asked.

"I've never wanted to be a Rider. I was only in line because I was with my sister because _she_ wanted to be the Rider. _She_ was always meant to be it, not me. I don't know why _he_," he motioned to the dragon in his lap, "picked me. But I do know he was wrong. This isn't me. I'm not meant to be the next rider. Sorry." No one else spoke. Bardan and Rhylite looked dumbstruck while Vesta seemed to just be staring into the distance. "Something can be done. Right?" It was stupid question but Walker still hoped there was a chance of getting away from this somehow.

"No. Not really." Rhylite said.

_At least I tried._ "You can go on, now." Walker stared down at his dragon as he tried to hide his downcast expression.

"Before we move on, first things come first. You must decide upon a name for the hatchling."

"Oh." The dragon in his lap stared back at him. "What should I name you?" He whispered so only the dragon could hear. Walker went through the many dragon names he had heard from bards or from Abigail. A pang of guilt went through him at the thought of her. "Should you be Vanilor?" The dragon shook his head. "Fundor?" He shook his head again. Walker went through a few more names that were denied until he found the one. "Ingothold?" The dragon nodded. "Ingothold." Walker repeated louder.

"A strong name." Vesta commented.

"A strong name." He repeated. Walker agreed with her. The name was strong and dignified and it fit the dragon in front of him.

Slowly, Walker raised his head and asked, "So I'm to leave Carvahall." It was such a foreign thought. He had always felt certain that he could never leave Palancar Valley. The thought was overwhelming.

"Yes. We would like to leave to go to Ilirea as soon as possible," Rhylite replied. "About a year is the usual time that a dragon and rider remain in Ilirea. After that you will be escorted across Alagaësia to the east. There you will train." Hearing him say it made everything feel more definite. His life would go as exactly as Rhylite had just said. There was no way to go back in time or to stop all of this. _Abigail will hate me._ It felt like his heart was deflating under his extreme guilt when he thought of how much Abigail must be hurting that instance and he could do nothing about. In fact, he believed that it was all his fault.

"Walker," Vesta said, "why do you think that this is some mistake?" Her voice was soft and low and it betrayed a bit of curiosity in it. She talked in such a way that Walker thought it would be easy to tell her anything.

"My sister, Abigail, has always been the one in the family that wanted to be the Rider. Our father has never believed that she could become one, and that's why she wanted to be one so badly. I was just in the line to see her touch the egg. I. . I hadn't meant to touch it myself. He, Ingothold, didn't hatch for her but then I ended up touching it and he hatched for me. You don't know Abigail. She'll be crushed even more when she finds out that I'm the new Rider." In a lower voice he said, "I shouldn't have touched it."

Vesta seemed to have heard him though. "Don't feel bad. It's not your fault Ingothold picked you. You need not say you're sorry to her. You have done nothing wrong. Don't let her make you feel any different." He listened and took in her words. He knew that what she said was true but he still couldn't truly believe that it wasn't his fault at all. No matter what he was still sure that Abigail would be crushed even more so than she was now.

Something strange seemed to touch Walker's mind. It felt like a maze with many intricate hallways and dead ends. Walker felt that even if he ventured a little into that maze he would be lost forever. A deep voice spoke inside his head and he realized that it was the dragon, Eridor, who was touching his mind. _**Fate has a way of creeping up on us when we least expect it to. Philosophers and teachers who have lived for centuries even do not understand the sense behind what it does. You are hesitant to accept this unforeseeable destiny and it is something your sister has vied for.**_ _**And yet **_**you **_**are the one who becomes the Rider. It seems that Fate has a bit of a sense of humor. **_Walker heard a deep chuckle emanate from Eridor._** Tell your sister "By Fate's unpredictable nature he still may give you what you so long for." Maybe then, she will understand.**_ Eridor's consciousness drew away from his.

Walker repeated what the dragon had told him over and over again so he would never forget it. _'By Fate's unpredictable nature he still may give you what you so long for.'_ _Maybe Abigail will listen to that._

"How old are you?" Bardan asked Walker.

"Fifteen."

"Where do you live?"

"Way down the road. My father is a blacksmith."

"I'll need to speak with him," Rhylite said.

"We can go right now if you want. I don't think he'll be too busy." Now that Walker thought about his father he released that he probably wouldn't be too happy either. What Abigail had said earlier was right. Father did expect him to stay in Carvahall forever and to inherit the blacksmith since he was the first and only son of the family. _I'll just have to hope that Abigail and Father aren't both there now. I don't think I can handle both of them at the same time._

Ingothold climbed out of Walker's lap and up his arm and rested around his neck once more. Vesta pushed herself from the wall she was still leaning on and stepped more into the light. Walker could see the other face of her face. All along the right side of her face and neck were savage red burn marks. Her right ear was shriveled up and it didn't even resemble an ear anymore. The burns shocked him. _I wonder how she got those?_

"I cannot accompany you to see your father. Eridor and I have some business to attend to. Excuse me." She made a quick nod to all three of them before exiting the room.

"Like Vesta, I too have some things to take care of myself. Excuse me." Bardan sauntered out of the room also.

Rhylite said. "That leaves the two of us."

They headed out of the room going a different way than through the big hall where the dragon egg had laid just a while ago. As they were walking in silence through the hallways, Walker felt a presence enter into his mind once again. It was both similar and different from Eridor's mind. This mind was less vast and much smaller. It was still like a maze but less intricate than Eridor's consciousness. Walker could travel through this maze and not get lost in its vast dark pathways. He could tell that the owner of the mind was admiring its surroundings. Walker looked at the violet dragon sitting across his shoulders that stared intently at anything their paths crossed with.

_**It's you. Isn't it?**_ As best as he could, Walker projected his thoughts toward the little dragon. He had never tried anything like it before. The thought that he could touch other minds with his was daunting.

The dragon hatchling stopped studying his surroundings and turned his head toward Walker. He had succeeded! The dragon did not speak using any words but rather with images. He told him through those images: yes.

_**Well, aren't you something. **_A shiver went down Walker's spine. It was made by pure excitement. He hadn't ever meant to be a Rider, but the past few events had intoxicated him in a way that nothing else had ever did. _Maybe this won't be so bad after all._ Then he remembered Abigail.

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	3. Facade

Every time one of his feet hit the ground as he walked his heartbeat seemed to increase in sound. Sweat was starting to form in his armpits. Each second increased Walker's nerves about how he would explain him becoming a Rider to his father and Abigail. He knew that their reactions would _not_ be good. _How in Alagaësia_ _will I explain this?_ His tongue was devoid of words to speak to his father when they got to the blacksmith.

The fact that people were stopping in the middle of the street to stare at him and Ingothold didn't help one bit either. It was awkward having all those people openly stare at them. Neither Ingothold nor Rhylite seemed to mind though. Rhylite walked smoothly through the opening that the crowd of people made for them without a glance their way. _This must happen to him so many times he must have gotten used to it._ While Rhylite was apathetic toward the spectators, Ingothold stared at the people they walked by just as openly as they stared at them. Through their connection Walker sensed that the little dragon loved the attention. Walker hated it and he couldn't ever imagine loving it or not noticing it. To avoid looking back at the people, he concentrated on watching his feet.

His house and the blacksmith shop finally came into view. It was a small two-story wooden house that he had lived in all of his life. "The shop's around back." he told Rhylite. Rhylite nodded and headed around the house to the back with Walker following close behind. The shop was detached from the house and set a few yards back. The building was made completely of wood and it had only a few narrow windows near where the walls meet the ceiling. All of the windows had tight blinds pulled over them so it did matter whether they were there or not.

Without a hint of hesitation, Rhylite walked right up to the building and pushed the wooden door open with a slow creak. "It's me," Walker called into the shop.

"Wait a minute." Walker's father's voice called out from the dark depths of the shop. The only light was illuminated from the bed of coals and the iron hot metal that his father was carving into horseshoes.

Walker's knees started shaking again as he stepped over the threshold. _And _I'm _suppose to be the new Rider?_ He wondered.

Walker put his hand over Ingothold's snout. _**Don't make a sound,**_ he told him through their connection. He wanted to hold off one of the moments he had been dreading as long as it was possible. Ingothold lowered his head and snuggled closer to Walker's body.

It was five minutes before his father was finished molding the horseshoe even though it seemed like five hours to him in his nervous state. His father took off his gloves as he said, "It was about time you and Abigail returned. I've bet you've realized now, Abigail, were you finally belong." He turned around and lit one of the lamps hanging on the wall. "He–." his father stopped mid-word when he saw Ingothold curled around Walker's neck. "What?" Walker in all of his life had never seen his father so astonished. All color seemed to leave his face as he stared at them. Quickly his gaze switched to look at Rhylite and it practically shot daggers at him. "Who are you!"

Rhylite did not seem in the lease caught off guard. He remained just as he was a minute ago and replied calmly, "Rhylite. I am the head officer that oversees the safety of the dragon egg and its Rider once it hatches." They shook hands. "As you can see, your son has been chosen."

"I can see that." the reply came out through partly clenched teeth.

"You should be happy and proud for your son. It is not only a great honor just for your son but also for all of your family. I am aware that having your son as you say 'leave the nest' is not a very pleasant thought but he will be well protected and taken care of. You may think otherwise but you will still be able to communicate with your son after he is gone. We plan to escort them to the capital in a week's time and he may stay here for that week. Even though we would recommend that at least one of us stays here in case of an incident."

_A week's time! Incident!_ Walker had had no idea that they would be leaving so soon. And an incident! There was a group of people who called themselves Domia abr kyn, which means "dominance of mankind," that protested the Riders and even made some attempts on the Riders' lives. They lived by the set of standards and ideals that the evil King Galbatorix had set up long ago. Walker had always been aware that they existed and of what they did but it never really got through to him until now, where it was _his_ life on the line.

"Your men won't be needed," Walker's father answered sharply. "I think that I can protect my own son in my own house. Thank you for coming and informing me of this and you are free to go now." Walker could tell by reading context that his father was telling Rhylite to go rather than stating that he could.

"Very well." Rhylite bowed his head to Walker's father and then left leaving Walker to face his father's wrath alone. It would be even worse than before since the anger had had a chance to build up while his father was holding it somewhat down in front of Rhylite. Their anger habits were traits that his father and Abigail shared.

"Come with me! And bring that infernal thing with you!" As he walked past Walker he made a wild motion with his hand that startled Ingothold. It made the little dragon jump and lose his balance on Walker's shoulder and fall to the ground. He spread and flapped his black wings quickly to slow his fall and landed roughly on the floor but there could have been a worse landing. The motion of Ingothold's wings reminded Walker of a scared chicken as it tried to get away from whatever scared it. Walker bent down and cradled Ingothold in his arms and then followed his father who was headed to the house.

They entered in through the back door and walked through the kitchen to the dinning room. "Martha! Get down here!"

"Coming," Walker's mother called downstairs.

His father started viciously pacing back-and-forth under the threshold through the foyer and the dinning room. Walker's mother's footsteps sounded as she climbed down the stairs and into the dinning room. She immediately stopped when she saw the dragon hatchling laying in Walker's arms. "What in Alaga–."

"Our son has gone and become a Rider!" bellowed his father. "It was bad enough having Abigail rant on about her dream. I knew she would fail anyway. But to have _him_ become a Rider!" He ran his fingers over his face and through his hair. "What were you even thinking?" he asked Walker but he did not wait for a reply. "I thought you had sense, Walker. But apparently not."

Walker had seen and heard his father talk like this to Abigail. He had never liked listening to it but he had also, now to his dismay, done nothing about it, except to comfort Abigail afterwards. The way Father talked to her bugged him in a way nothing else did but having been talked to that way was a whole different sensation. He felt obsolete and belittled. Underneath all of that was anger. It stirred up inside his chest and he could not suppress it completely. _No. I can't get mad. Getting mad never helped Abigail at anything so it won't get me anywhere either._ It was still very hard to keep his cool though. _Oh, Abigail. If I had known it was this horrible I would have done something._

In his arms, Ingothold began to bare his teeth at his father. Walker rubbed the dragon's neck and got it to turn his head toward him. Walker shook his head and Ingothold understood and unbarred his teeth. "It's all right, Ingothold." He whispered.

His father heard. "It's all right?" His father stared at him and Ingothold with his dark menacing gray eyes. He shook his head and briefly glanced at Walker's mother who stood silently by the doorway, as she always did. According to what Walker's parents believed in, a woman's only goal was to be a good wife and a good wife would manage the house and stand silently by her husband, never disobeying or cutting in. "Did you hear him?" Father turned back to him. "Nothing is all right! Everything is a disaster! And _now_ we have to fix it. We need to fix this whole thing. And we'll start with getting rid of that damn thing." He pointed a stubby ash-covered finger at Ingothold.

Once again, Ingothold barred his teeth at Father and this time he emitted a low threatening growl. All of the dragon's body tensed in Walker's arms as it got ready to pounce at a second's notice. Walker was more shocked than angry at his father's suggestion. Even though he had been connected with Ingothold for only a short time, the thought of parting from him was inconceivable.

"Get rid of . . . get rid of him! N. . . no. No!"

"No? No!" His father's face bubbled with fury about to be spilled. "How dare you say that to me! Your father! You're suppose to be the sensible one. And yet here you are! Acting just like your sister."

The front door opened. The sound seemed out of place with all of the yelling going on. There was a soft click as the door returned into its place once again. "Speaking of that shrew." said Walker's father.

It was Abigail. She walked right down the hallway bypassing the room they were in and headed up the stairs. Not so much as a blink. This surprised Walker. He had thought she would have come into the house, seen Walker and Ingothold, and explode in anger. She had not even glanced into the room as she walked past. _She must have found out. So now she's ignoring me._

"That little–." Walker's father raced into the hall after her and stood at the bottom of the stairway. "You come down here! Right now!" The footsteps stopped and then slowly began again and this time they got closer.

Father walked back into the room with Abigail behind him who stopped right under the threshold. She held her head up high as she waited for Father to speak. _Why is she acting this way?_ Normally she would not have come down but would yell down at Father. It was unusual to see her so. . . calm. _Something else has changed in her too._ Walker could not lay a finger on it. Abigail made the mistake of glancing around the room. When her eyes fell on Walker and Ingothold, she could not hide from him the break in her disregarding facade even if it was just for a second. Her expression had drawn back as if she had been struck across the face. Walker felt a sharp pain in his head that lasted as long as the break in her facade did. With a quick turn of her head she turned back to stare at her father with her inherited gray eyes.

"Where have you been!" Father asked.

"Outside." Her response was monotone and betrayed not even a tiny bit of emotion. _I wonder how long she'll keep this up,_ Walker wondered.

"Well, anyway. Are you aware of what your brother has done?"

She shifted her stance. "Yes."

"You made him do this. Didn't you!" Father stepped right up toward her.

"No."

"Don't you dare lie to me! I know it was you who forced Walker to touch that cursed dragon egg. And now look!" He pointed back to Walker and Ingothold. "That _thing_ hatched for him." Still, no emotion was betrayed on Abigail's face. "Since it didn't hatch for you, you thought it would hatch for Walker instead. And if it did you thought that he would take you with him when he would leave. You did. And don't even try to lie. It doesn't matter anyway. We're getting rid of the animal, for good, and _no one_ is leaving this place. It's time you give up your dream. You are a woman and you will become what women are meant to be." Father bent even closer toward Abigail and whispered something else but it was too low for Walker to hear. Abigail whispered something back in return before she turned around and headed upstairs. This time Father did not stop her.

His father turned back to the rest of them. "I'm going back to work." He pointed at Ingothold. "We're getting rid of that thing. Tonight." Without another word he walked out of the house and back to the blacksmith and Walker's mother walked out of the room also.

Now that they were gone, his first thought was: Abigail. He helped Ingothold get settled onto his shoulder before he ran up the stairs to her room. Walker softly knocked twice on the closed door. "Abigail?" No response. "I need to talk with you." Still, no response. "Please, open up." He felt like saying 'I'm sorry' but he remembered what Vesta had said about how he had done nothing wrong and forced himself not too. _It's not my fault. But it feels like it._

The doorknob turned and the door opened. Abigail still maintained her facade even when her eyes looked up into his. There was no trace of any feeling in those eyes and that face, but he knew her. This was unlike her but he knew she was still crushed on the inside no matter what her outside betrayed.

"Abigail. You _have _to understand. I never meant to hurt you. Never. I didn't mean for this to happen. It just . . . did. I know that it was _your_ dream to become a Rider and I've always supported that. Never in a million years would I plan to drag you down. You have to believe me on that." His words seemed weak and they didn't do anything to get through to her. _What am I suppose to say?_ Then he remembered what the dragon, Eridor, had said. "There's still hope though," he told her. " 'By Fate's unpredictable nature he still may give you what you so long for'."

Her gray eyes narrowed as she stared at him with a . . . a confused expression, it seemed. _Maybe that's a good sign. _She slammed the door in his face. _At least she reacted._


	4. Departure

**Merry Christmas! I just finished my last exam so Christmas break has finally started for me! I've decided to celebrate by uploading this new chapter. I hope you like it!**

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><p>Ingothold laid comfortably on Walker's bed chewing at a piece of steak that Walker had gotten for him. Walker sat on the floor against the wall opposite his bed as he watched the dragon. He did not know whether the dragon had forgotten about what his father had said or somehow thought it was irrelevant. He <em>was<em> just a hatchling.

_What am I going to do? I can't let Father get rid of him, but I don't know if I can stop him either._ There was no way around this. He would _never_ be able to convince his father not to get rid of Ingothold. _But I can't let him do this. No matter what._ Walker felt that even if he had to go to the ends of Alagaësia he would keep Ingothold safe. _But how can I?_ In the few hours he had been a Rider he had become unbreakably connected with the little dragon. _I'm his rider and he's my dragon_. _Nothing shall tear us apart._ His mind always came back to the same exact question. _What am I going to do?_

_I could run away._ _Run away?_ It seemed like something Abigail would do but it was completely foreign to him. As the thought came to him, a plan seemed on its own to click together in his mind. He needed to talk to Rhylite and he could protect them. If he could just travel through the city and get to the hall, there Ingothold would be safe. All he had to do was to find a way to sneak out. _I wish I could ask Abigail how to get out of here. She's probably done this millions of times. _There was a window in his room. He could just jump out of it. _That could work._ Walker felt desperate to get Ingothold to safety. It was a kind of desperation he had never felt before.

He was prepared to run away immediately but a bit of hesitation stopped him from doing so. _If I leave now, I won't ever come back._ It was certain. He would stay with Rhylite for the week until they would go and stay in Ilirea for a year, and then he and Ingothold would go on to the east. After training he would come back to Alagaësia, maybe even to Carvahall, but never to _this_ house, or to the blacksmith. Mostly likely he wouldn't see his family again. Not his father. Not his mother. And not even Abigail. Walker stared at Ingothold even more intensely. _I'm sorry. But I have to go._ _This_ would be his fault.

He got up and grabbed his pack and started to pack his clothes. Walker donned his black cloak and some gloves to hide his gedwëy ignasia. When he finished packing, he looked out of his window. Night was beginning to fall and it was near suppertime. His heartbeat sped up when he saw his father walking back to the house after a day's work. He carried an axe in his hand. _He will _not_ touch Ingothold. _Walker watched his father until he disappeared inside of the house. _I have to leave. Now!_

He slung his pack over his shoulder and grabbed Ingothold and held him by his side. Walker opened his bedroom window and sat upon the windowsill as he looked down at the ground. His room was on the second story of his house so the drop was not short. It wasn't that far to him either. When he was little he and his friends would climb trees and jump off the branches all of the time. It had been an awful long while since then but he thought that he could jump down that far easily.

Walker took his pack off and dropped it to the ground. It landed in the bushes with a soft thump and it rustled the bushes. Walker turned to Ingothold. He tried to tell him through images what he wanted him to do. After he finished the dragon looked a bit hesitant but nodded anyway. Walker gently threw him out the window. The dragon spread its wings and flapped them like a scared chicken. His fall was slowed down somewhat but not a lot but thankfully the dragon landed safely into the bushes. Lastly, Walker himself jumped out of the window. The landing sent a few tremors up his legs but they quickly faded away in a few seconds.

He slung his pack over his shoulder once again and hid Ingothold inside the folds of his cloak. Walker stood up in a crouch and walked around the house and into the streets of the city. Once he was a fair distance away from home he stood up tall. Walker's heart beat at an amazingly fast rate it seemed and sweat rolled down his neck and also all over his palms. He thought that every single person he passed was looking at him and knew that he was a Rider and what he was doing. It made him sick to his stomach. But he had to keep walking.

The trip seemed to take so much longer than it usually did. It felt like an hour had passed to Walker when he had only been walking for a few minutes. Street lamps were being lit and the twilight was slowly fading into night. A middle-aged man was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of his shop as he watched the people in the street pass by. As Walker passed him, the man nodded his head to him and Walker nodded back to be polite. There was something about the old man that put him on edge. Ingothold even seemed a bit nervous inside his cloak. Walker sped up his pace a bit.

He didn't know why he was so nervous. Everything he saw or heard gave him the chills. The shadows seemed darker and more devilish as if their intricate designs hid some underhand plot to corner them. Walker strained his eyes trying to pierce their darkness but it was too solid to catch a single glimpse of anything.

Ingothold made a sharp high sound. Walker looked down at where he was hidden in his cloak. Ingothold had been warning him about something but instead he had unintentionally distracted him so that Walker didn't see the man leap out of the shadows until he grabbed him. The man pulled Walker into an alley and pushed him up against the wall of a building. The impact knocked the breath out of Walker and he lost his bearings for a moment. It was a moment too long.

The man who had grabbed him punched him across the face and then reached into his belt to get a knife out. Ingothold leaped at the man and bit his hand. The man drew back and screamed in pain giving Ingothold time to arouse Walker from his lost state. Walker managed to get his bearings once again and he quickly picked up Ingothold and ran out the alley.

He ran as fast as he could and pushed and shoved people out of his way. Walker was on a different street than the one he was on earlier so he had to navigate a new route, and quickly. He decided that he was on Carn Street which would eventually turn back and join the street he had been on and then the hall would be right there, but it would be quicker to dodge between the houses at the end of the street. If he did, he would be able to cut right into the field behind the hall where the dragons stayed.

"Walker!" He looked back but only saw the man running after him as he held his left hand. The voice had sounded like Abigail but he didn't see her.

He was beginning to see the end of the street and it gave him hope which fueled him to run even faster than before. Walker could see the little opening between the houses that lead to the field. It was getting closer and closer and closer. His chest hurt and he could hardly breathe but he had to keep going. It took all of his might to keep running. He was almost there. He could see all the way down the opening and could see the green grass growing there. _I'm about to make it._

He tripped.

The hard ground rose up to meet him. He had been holding Ingothold so he hadn't been able to put his hands out in front of him. His head hit the ground the hardest and the skin was slitted open in a cut at the top of his forehead and his nose broke. Blood from his nose ran down his face and he tasted it in his mouth. Ingothold flew out of his arms and landed hard on his left front leg. Walker heard a low snap and he saw by how the dragon was holding its leg that it had broken. _No!_ He was going to grab Ingothold again when a strong hand grabbed the back of his cloak and yanked him back. The man who was holding him was glaring at Walker with a vicious grin and was holding a knife in his hand. Walker stared at the knife as its steel glittered in the lamplight. It was almost beautiful. The knife started to come down.

A roar shattered the air. It sliced through the events of the world as easily as a knife through butter, stopping everyone and everything in its place. The man holding Walker let him go to cover his ears and the second he let go Walker raced over and grabbed Ingothold. As it thundered in everyone's eardrums the roar lasted for many seconds before it abruptly stopped.

Everybody looked up to see a large yellow-scarlet dragon arching its neck to look down at the humans, who were as little as ants compared to him. _Eridor._ There was a moment of silence as they all stared at the majestic dragon and the dragon stared back at the nugatory humans. Several screams pierced the air once more. Everyone turned around and ran in a frenzy away from Eridor.

Unlike everyone else though, the man with the knife proceeded forward toward Walker. He raised his knife high above his head and it came down once more. And once more it was stopped. A long thin sword came out from behind Walker and knocked the knife out of the man's hand. Rhylite took the sword and its twin and crossed them and used them to push the man back.

A hand took hold of Walker's arm and gently pulled him back. He looked over at Vesta standing beside him. In her right hand she held by her side a Lykx, a weapon with a thin wooden handle in the middle with two flat wide blades extending out either end. "Are you hurt," she asked.

It took a while for Walker to calm down enough that he could utter words and it was even harder with blood in his mouth, but his answer soon came out. "'m al rit. But I ink tat Inotold brot ne of his les."

"Give him to me." He handed the dragon over to her carefully so not to unintentionally hurt Ingothold. Vesta examined the leg. "It is broken, but I can fix it easily." She placed her hand over the leg and said in a low voice, "Waíse heill." When she drew her hand back, the leg was completely healed.

"Than ou." said Walker.

"It was nothing." she replied as she handed Ingothold back to him. She then put her hand over Walker's nose and repeated the phrase. He felt his nose snap back into place with a tiny prick of pain. He wiped some of the blood off of his face with his sleeve.

"Thank you," he said again before turning his attention back to the street.

Everybody had left except for a handful of people, he, Ingothold, Vesta, Eridor, Rhylite, the man who had attacked Walker, a tall man with gloves with metal spikes on the knuckles, and the man who had been sitting on the porch and had nodded at Walker. To his ultimate surprise he saw his father and also standing a ways back Abigail and his mother. Mother's and Abigail's arms were interlocked and his mother wore a look of horror on her face while Abigail's was still blank.

Rhylite and the man who had attacked Walker were standing three feet apart. Their stances were of that of men ready to fight but neither made a move to do so. The man was yelling so hard he spat while Rhylite was trying to talk to him in a calm tone which wasn't working one bit.

"You pig, curd-faced bastards–."

"Calm down. If you would just listen–."

"I won't ever listen to you pig-brained asses–."

Rhylite finally gave up with the calm approach. "Quiet! I will not tolerate you senseless fools that call yourselves the Domia abr kyn. You have crossed the line too many times. I will make sure that you will pay for all that have done."

"You will make _us_ pay?" said the man who had nodded to Walker earlier. He stepped forward and motioned for the other man to step back and he did. "_We_ have done nothing wrong. It is you, you the Dragon Rider, you the Dragons, you who support them. You have too much power and you really aren't protecting us, the people. You only want to satisfy your own desires and you do that by preying on _us._ You take the innocent and make them Riders and turn them into believing your ways," he motioned toward Walker. "You have too much power, more than any man should have. You have tricked everyone in to believing that having you around is right. Even the mighty king, Galbatorix, was fooled. To have complete peace you must destroy all of you, every single one. All of the dragons, the riders, and even the magicians. It is time to rid all of you, vermin, from this world _forever_."

"You have it wrong, Edoc'sil. We mean to keep peace in Alagaësia, not what you speak. If you let us, I'm sure we can come to an understanding. But exterminating us is not the right path. If you do, Alagaësia will be more corrupted than ever before. Drop your weapons and stop fighting and for a change listen to us."

The man, Edoc'sil, spat in Rhylite's face. "You may claim victory today, but I promise you . . . It will be short-lived." He turned around and walked down the street and the other two men followed behind.

As he watched them leave, Walker let out a breath he had been holding. The knot in his chest finally loosened, but not for long. It tightened back up when he saw his family still there. His father marched up to Rhylite.

"I demand to have my son handed back to me immediately," he told Rhylite in a stern voice.

"We did not take him from you. If he _wishes_ to return to you he can. We have no problem with that."Rhylite said in his calm voice. He turned to look at Walker.

"Come with me, Walker. I've had enough foolishness going around." his father said as he began to walk back to the house.

"No." One syllable. One word. That was all it took. It felt amazing to say. He was surprised by how easy it was to say too. Walker could not recall one memory of him disobeying his father before. But he hadn't ever had a good enough reason to do so until now. He was not going to touch Ingothold. They were bonded and he would guard him with his life. That thought gave him strength he had never had before to stand up to people, like his father.

His father slowly turned around and glared at Walker. "What did you say?" The reply was low but it was all the more menacing that way.

"Rhylite said that if I _wanted_ to return I could. I don't _want_ to return."

"He is right," Rhylite said. "He does not wish to go back. You may go now." A vein in Walker's father's temple bulged. His father made a move to step toward Walker. "You may go," Rhylite said again louder than before. He also tightened his grip on his swords, a move that did not go unnoticed by Walker's father.

He looked once more at Walker and at Rhylite and then turned around and started to walk away. "Come with me." he told Walker's mother and Abigail. They turned around too and walked after him. As she turned around, Abigail cast a glance at Walker. For a moment he thought he saw sadness in her eyes but she turned around so he could see her eyes no more.

"Come with me," Vesta told Walker. He followed her through the opening between the houses and into the field where Eridor stayed. Eridor drew back from looking over the street and Rhylite followed them from behind.

When they exited the opening and Rhylite came up on Walker's other side Walker asked him, "Those men who were chasing me, they were the Domia abr kyn, weren't they?"

"Yes," he replied. "That man I was talking to is their leader, Edoc'sil. I believe his name used to be Edward but he changed it a long time ago to Edoc'sil which means 'unconquerable' in the Ancient Language. We have had some run-ins with each other in the past."

"Doesn't the Domia abr kyn have many different groups that run in different cities? How is he their leader?"

"You are right. They have many groups spread throughout the Empire and Surda. Edoc'sil is only the leader of the group in Carvahall. The Domia abr kyn has no leader that rules over all of them." Eridor curled back up in the field as if to rest but his eyes remained opened. When they got near him, they all stopped walking.

"Why have you left your home, Walker?" Rhylite inquired. Walker told them the whole story about how his father had wanted to get rid of Ingothold and of how he couldn't have let that happen so he ran away. He also told them of his attack by the Domia abr kyn.

"I knew it was not entirely right to leave you alone at your home, but it was not my place to step in between you and your father. He should be honored to have his son as a Rider. I don't understand why he isn't."

_He's very controlling. That's all._ Walker did not say these words out loud. It was true but it would not be right to speak against his father that way.

Vesta ran her finger over Ingothold's snout. "You two must be hungry. Come inside. We'll get you something to eat."

_Food does sound nice._ Ingothold thrummed with pleasure in Walker's arms. They followed Vesta inside the Hall.

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><p>Walker and Ingothold stayed for only a week at the Hall. They were confined to stay in the Hall and to the field behind the Hall for their own safety. It would have been terribly boring if not for Vesta and Eridor. They visited often and Vesta even started to teach Walker sword fighting. Vesta was by far the most talented swordsman Walker had ever seen, even though he hadn't seen many. Walker had no experience in sword fighting and he failed miserably to hold his own against her, even when she wasn't really trying that hard, but Vesta was patient and continued to teach him. She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. He improved a little. By the end of the week he could deflect at least one blow, if she wasn't trying that hard.<p>

Vesta and Eridor also told them about many other things. They told them about the changes that happen to Riders, about the Ancient Language, about the wonders of the east, about the mighty Eragon and Saphira, and of many other things they had seen throughout their lives. It turned out that Vesta was about 200 years old.

Walker did not see any of his family that week. He feared that he would not ever see them again. When the company that was going to see Walker and Ingothold safely to Ilirea was getting ready to leave a crowd was gathering to see them off. He searched the crowd and he saw his father and mother standing among the dozens of other people. _Mother and Father are here._ He searched the crowd again, more thoroughly this time. _But not Abigail._ His heart plummeted within his chest.

"Is anything wrong," Vesta asked him.

"No. Nothing's wrong." He told her.

"Did you ever get a chance to talk to your sister?"

"Once. But it didn't go too well." Walker frowned.

"Don't think you'll never get to see her again. You may see her, but not for many years. But maybe then she'll listen."

Walker looked at Vesta. "Thank you," he told her. What she said hadn't helped but he wanted to thank her for at least trying.

She nodded and then walked away.

Walker mounted the horse ready for him and Ingothold climbed onto his shoulders. It was a while before everything was ready for them to set off. Rhylite gave a speech to the people as a farewell but Walker didn't really listen to it. It saddened him to leave the place he had known his whole life. He had never ventured out of Carvahall. Never. Now he would venture across all of Alagaësia, and maybe even one day, the world.

When Rhylite finished speaking the ground beneath their feet shook as the great dragon, Eridor, with Vesta on his back, launched into the sky. Slowly the company started their long journey to Ilirea. Walker looked back at the crowd on last time. His parents did not look happy as they saw him off. He had left things at home a mess. _One day I'll come back to clean it up. I'll come back to Carvahall one day. I promise. Even if the world tries to stop me, I'll come back._ He turned around and his horse joined everyone else in their long journey.

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><p><strong>Did you like it? If you did (or if you have any suggestions) please, Please, PLEASE review.<strong> **I would absolutely love it if you did. Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!**


	5. A Deal

**It's the eve of Christmas Eve! I hope you are all having very Merry Christmases. ****Here's a Christmas present from me to you. **

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><p><em>Give up.<em> The words drummed in her mind as loud as thunder when it shakes the house. _Give up. _A voice rasped the words out. It was a voice distorted with ire and contempt beyond recognition. It made her feel helpless. A feeling she feared.

_Give up!_

_No. No. I can't. I can't give up._ It was impossible to give up and to live a life that was forced upon her. A life she did not want. A life of no importance. _No! I cannot live that life. I can_not _give up!_

_Give up!_

"No!" Abigail crashed back into reality from the horror of her dreams. Even in reality fear still gripped her in his noxious grip. All over her sweat poured down her body and she was practically hyperventilating. She hugged her knees into her chest and listened to the light rain shower going on outside and hoped that its light pattering would calm her down. Each raindrop emitted a single note as it collided with her windowsill that belonged to an untold rhythm. It was a serene sound. Nothing like the thunderstorm going on inside of her. No matter how soothing the sound was, it did not help her.

Fear still ravaged inside of her as it chilled her to the bone and muffled her spirit. She felt like she was choking. Every comment, every wretched feeling, every horror of her life weighed down on her chest forbidding her to breathe.

_Give up._ It was only a whisper now. All of the anger and contempt seemed to have washed away just leaving the faint words and the voice that said them. She then realized that it was her father's voice. At the realization she shook from the inside out.

Abigail remembered what her father had whispered to her the day Walker had left. _It's time to finally give up._ It had taken all of her will not to scream at him once the last word had left his lips. _Yes, Father. _She could still taste her reply on her tongue. It had been a lie. She would never give up, but she wanted him to feel this misleading satisfaction before he got what he deserved.

Her nerves would still not calm. There was one last thing she thought might calm her. On her bedside table she picked up a stone that was a little bit smaller than her palm. She closed her fingers around it enjoying the feeling of something hard and firm before she opened her hand again. Abigail leaned back and laid against the bed head and closed her eyes.

She reached deep within her mind and found that comforting spot in the back of her consciousness. Slowly the energy spread through her until it filled and thrummed in her entire being. The feeling brushed everything cold and ill away from her until it felt like such things didn't exist. She heaved a sigh of relief as her body relaxed.

After a few moments of just having the energy flow through her she put it to use. The pressure that the rock exerted in her hand steadily lifted. She opened her eyes and saw that the rock was rising above her hand. One inch. Two inches. Three. Four. Five inches. The rock stopped and refused to rise anymore. Abigail would have like to have it rise farther but decided not to press herself anymore. Even if she could only raise a rock five inches, it was still an impressive feat for someone who has only been a magician for ten days. She would be a fine magician indeed. No Ancient Language required.

She smiled and pressed the rock to her chest. Things were finally going to turn around. Abigail was chained to the life her father believed in and for once she felt like she could break free.

Movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention. Her one and only mirror hung on the wall. Rather than it looking clear, the surface looked murky. It looked like there were clouds just beneath the mirror's surface and they were swirling around like a storm was brewing. An icy dagger of fear stabbed deep into her heart. Her hand tightened around the stone. With all of her might she threw the stone at the mirror shattering it into a million pieces. The murkiness dissipated from each individual piece of the shattered mirror leaving them with crystal clear surfaces.

As quickly as the sound of breaking glass had broken the night silence invaded back in. Her parents had not even woken up or come to see where the noise had come from.

Abigail leaned back against the bed head again. Her blood was racing in her veins once more. _Dammit! I need to compose myself._ Being an open book in the world she was about to enter would be fatal. She focused on the calmness of the night until her muscles relaxed.

Once she was relaxed, she realized just how tired she was. _I need to go to sleep. I have much to do in morning._ Abigail laid back down and closed her eyes. It was not for a while but eventually she fell asleep.

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><p><em>It's necessary.<em> Abigail stared disgustingly at the dress she had laid out before her across her bed. She had put it off for the past few days but now she had to do it. _I really don't want to do this._ But she wanted to make him believe in her ploy of her 'finding her place', and this was necessary to do it. She would have to stop wearing the new style for women which composed of a short tunic and long pants with boots for the old style of a dress and stockings. The majority of women still wore dresses but there were some women, like Abigail, who longed for a change and seized it the second it appeared.

The different feel of the dress wasn't the real thing holding her back. It was the fact that this was a major step in giving up her rebellion. _I'm not really giving up. This is all merely a scheme. None of it is real. _She bent over to pick the dress up and felt the soft cotton fabric between her fingers. _And also the look on his face will be priceless._

She took her thin nightgown off. Before she started to dress, she took a moment to enjoy the feeling of being in only her bare skin. Her body was without a blemish. No scars, no bruises, and hardly any birthmarks to speak of. Soon, it would not be that way anymore. She couldn't help but to shudder. _I'd rather not think about that now._

Abigail got dressed and headed downstairs into the dining room. When she entered the room, her father looked up from eating. A self-satisfied smile crept across his face when he saw her. She put on a nice gentle smile on her face to keep herself from snickering.

She sat down on her father's right side where her mother had already set her porridge down. Before she began eating, she placed her napkin in her lap like a lady and sat up straight in her seat.

"Tom and his son, Mandel, are coming over in the late afternoon to get their horses' new shoes. I invited them over to stay for dinner so we will have five people instead of . . . three." her father said.

_That pig-faced Mandel. Curse him a thousand times._ She had known since she was a little child that her father was going to marry her off as soon as he got the chance, and here he was pushing her and pig-faced Mandel together. _I'm not even sixteen yet. _Legally she could not marry until she was sixteen but she knew her father was preparing for her next birthday.

Abigail couldn't help but to notice how her father had hesitated to say 'three'. Walker's leaving had left a sensitive spot in her father. He felt sadness with a tinge of anger about having his 'pride and joy', his 'brave son', his 'darling heir' be gone forever. Her father was an open book to her. _If only I had a chance to smile._

Her satisfaction melted away when her thoughts of their own accord wandered to her brother. For as long as she could remember he had been the darling little boy that everybody had to fall in love with at first sight. Walker had been kind and generous to a point that Abigail found irritating. He did not know of such things like the hate that was burning within her chest. He had been unable to hate.

'_By Fate's unpredictable nature he still may give you what you so long for'. What was that supposed to mean?_ It had just been a futile attempt to make her understand about how 'he hadn't meant to do it'. _A load of manure, _she thought. _I wonder where he got that from._ She tried to think about it sarcastically but whenever the thought came up it made a pit of uneasiness settle into her stomach.

"Abigail!" Her father slapped the dinning table and snapped Abigail out of her reverie. Startled, she dropped her spoon onto the floor. "Abigail," her father said sternly.

She turned to look at him. "Yes, Father?" she said in her sweetest most innocent voice. _Hopefully my face betrays nothing either._

"You were not listening to me." he said.

"I am sorry, Father."

"These are the kinds of manners I'm talking about. I was saying that when Tom and his son are here I want you to be on your best behavior. No daydreaming, no smart or back talk, no whatever other stuff you do. Am I clear?" He stared intensely into her eyes daring her to disobey him.

She stared right back into his eyes just as intensely and replied without even a single blink, "Yes, Father."

He leaned back into his chair, relaxed. "You dropped your spoon."

"Sorry, Father." Abigail bent down and picked up her spoon.

"And stop saying 'Father' all of the time." By his tone she guessed that he was annoyed.

"Yes, Fa–." She stopped herself in mid 'Father'. She had done it on purpose and she stole a glance at her father for his reaction. In her father's gaze she saw fire as he glared at her. He did not look happy. Abigail then realized to her dismay that she was smirking. She wiped it off of her face in less than a second but it was already too late. She had let her facade slip for one second. It was one second long enough for her father to stop being fooled.

Her father pointed his finger at her. "I want _no_ kind of that behavior tonight, young lady." He pushed his chair back and stood up. "I'm going to the smith." he said and then walked away.

_Why did I do that? Now I'll have to start from scratch again and it'll be even harder convincing him this time. But there'll be lots of chances to prove myself tonight._

Her mother got up also and took all of the plates to the kitchen to clean. "Mother." Abigail called after her.

"What, dear?"

"I'm going out for a walk. I'll be back by noon."

"Noon?" Her mother sounded shocked by how long she would be gone. Abigail could not afford to answer questions so she left quickly before her mother had a chance to ask them.

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><p>On her way out Abigail had grabbed a cloak so she could hide her face under the hood. She did not want anyone seeing her partake in this visit. If someone saw her, she would most likely die a lot sooner than she would like to. It would look awfully suspicious to have her, a young woman, associating with people of this kind of quality. The Domia abr kyn were already people of questionable honorability so it was thought that anyone that met with them were the same. The last thing Abigail needed was people to be suspicious about her. If people were suspicious and she did what she was going to do in the far future they would know it was her and she did not want to go to jail. But not doing anything suspicious wasn't enough to protect her. She needed insurance. And that was why she was making this visit.<p>

She found the building she was looking for and stepped up onto the porch and knocked on the a few seconds of waiting a man opened the door. He was in his early twenties and rather handsome with short light blonde hair and a stubbly chin. His eyes were round and the irises were sky blue. She could tell he was surprised to see her by the way his eyes widened for a second when they focused upon her.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I prefer not to answer any questions until I am invited in."

There was a pause before he replied, "Then come in." The man moved aside as she entered and closed the door behind her.

Abigail looked around and took in her surroundings. They were standing in a room with a large wooden table in the middle. Along the walls were many cabinets and shelves with a variety of scrolls, books, knives, and many things she had never seen or heard of before. The room was dim and the only sources of light were sunlight streaming in through the windows and a little lantern hanging from the ceiling over the center of the table.

"Who are you?" the man asked again.

"Abigail."

"And what do you want, Abigail?"

"First, to know your name."

"That is not important."

"I'd rather like to know." she pressed. If she was going to tell him of her deal, she really would like to know his name. It may come in handy later on.

"Lange." he said."Now, what do you want?" He was growing impatient with her.

Abigail pulled a chair out and sat down and she let her hood fall off. "I'm here to make a deal with the Domia abr kyn."

"What deal?" he stepped forward interested.

"You may not have realized but the new human Rider is my brother, Walker. The one you want dead."

"One of many."

"Well, I can help you kill him."

"How?"

"He is not just my brother, but my _twin_ brother, and we have a connection that exceeds normal siblings. If one of us were to get hurt, the other would know immediately, no matter where we were." The last part was more of a bluff. She didn't know if it would work if they were miles apart since they had always been together but she had to hope that it would. "My brother is very protective of me. If he thinks that I'm in trouble he'll run back to find me no matter what. I know that he'll leave those people assigned to protect him and come after me by himself and with his dragon. While they are alone, you can kill them."

"And how will you be in danger so he can feel it?"

Abigail hesitated. She remembered that morning about how her body was without a blemish. She would miss being like that. Once she said it the idea would be so much more final but it had to be done. "You may torture me." she said in a low voice.

Lange drew back in shock. He had not been expecting that and he probably assumed now that she was mad. The idea had seemed a bit crazy to her when it had first come to mind but after considering many other options she had realized that it was the only way. Lange's eyes wandered around the room before coming to rest on her again.

He stepped closer to her and leaned over her as she sat in her chair. His face was within inches of hers. "And what would a girl like you want in return?"he smiled and his eyes took a moment to drop down her form.

She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him away. "I'm not that kind of girl. And what I desire is a bit more," she paused, "pricey."

Lange took a step back. "And what is it?" _That's aggravation I catch in his voice, isn't it. Pervert._

"The Domia abr kyn has friends in high places I believe. Something will happen. In a few months or a few days, I will not say. But when it does I want the Domia abr kyn to see that I'm kept safe and no harm or accusations fall upon me. That is all I ask." she said.

"Excuse me." he said and walked out of the room. When he returned, he was followed by a man whom Abigail had seen before. She had seen him that night in the street when she and her family had followed Walker when he had run away. One of the men protecting Walker had called him Edoc'sil.

Edoc'sil sat down in a chair across the table from Abigail. "What is this deal that I have heard of?" he said as he leaned forward.

Abigail repeated what she had told Lange earlier. "Is it a deal?" she asked when she was finished.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to help us get rid of your brother?"

Before she replied, she thought over what she was about to say. "Because he took something from me. Something that I wanted. Since he took it, I now can never have it. I want my revenge."

"And I believe that thing that he took from you was the chance to become a Rider. Was it not? And also why should we make a deal with someone who is in league with the Riders?"

"Yes, that is true. I longed to a Rider for so long. But I want to help you now because I have seen the light just as you have. I now know that dragons are idiots and worthless creatures that are better off extinct. Yes, I wanted to be a rider but I desire that path no more." She waited for his reply.

"We need to test you to see if you are lying to us. To test you we need you to say so in the Ancient Language. Will you?"

"Yes, if you tell me the words."

"Repeat after me: Eka huildr aí gaoineã itf brötrer iet sem klinay sieydom iete aië älfr ewoand iu eka ewoand."

It didn't seem right to repeat this binding oath with only having the words of others that it meant a certain thing. Edoc'sil knew full well that people of her class didn't know any words of the Ancient Language. He could trick her into doing something fatal and she wouldn't know of it. _I'll have to take the risk, but I won't _ever_ do something like this again._ She repeated the phrase back to him.

"Our deal is done." Edoc'sil said. He extended his hand out to her. She took his hand and shook it.

"Done."

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><p><strong>Did you like it? If you did (or if you have any suggestions) please, Please, PLEASE review.<strong> **I would absolutely love it if you did. Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I know, it's the same thing I said at the end of Chapter 4, but REALLY please review.  
><strong>


	6. Yin and Yang

**Sorry for the long wait. I got visited by our dear little friend Mr. W. Block. I hope you like this chapter!**

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><p><em>They're here.<em> Her father was giving Mandel's and his father's horses their new shoes. Abigail watched through the curtains dreading the closeness of dinner and yet eager at the same time to pick up her game again. When she had returned home at noon she had done everything her mother had told her to do and had followed the orders to a T. She would have to do something extra to convince her father that at breakfast it had just been an honest mistake and that she really was trying to become the young lady he wanted her to be.

"Abigail," her mother came up beside her. "Go upstairs into your room and get dressed. I've already laid out a dress for you."

"Yes, Mother." she said and then she went upstairs to her room.

On her bed was a light blue dress with a lace-lined collar and cuffs. Her mother had also laid out a pair stockings and shoes for her. Abigail had seen this dress once before when her mother had worn it to a social event. It had cost more than what they usually spent on a dress but her father had wanted her mother to have at least one fancy dress. And now they wanted her to wear it. _They really want to impress Mandel._

Once she finished changing, she turned around to look at herself in the mirror to realize that there was no mirror on the wall anymore. Abigail then remembered how she had smashed it and she bent down to look under her bedside table where she had hidden the broke pieces. She had not had any time to get rid of them.

She reached under the table and slid a piece out in front of her. It looked like a normal mirror. But as she kept staring at it the surface started to blur just like it had done that night. Her heartbeat jumped but she stopped herself from smashing it right away. There was a force emitting from it that pulled her into staring deeper into it. The surface continued to get darker until it became the color of the bottom of a storm cloud.

A flicker of color appeared for a second out of the somber gray before disappearing. Abigail leaned in closer to get a better look. The flicker of color appeared and disappeared several times before it stayed long enough to be able to see the image it made. It looked like a side of a face. The next time it appeared she was certain it was a face. _Someone's spying on me._ She stood up rapidly and stomped her foot on the glass. Just like before the glass cleared when broke.

_As long as this glass is here, I don't think I'll be safe in my room. Who would spy on me?_ Abigail looked back down at the glass. One section of the cracked glass once again started to become murky.

_I need to get out of here._ She ran out of her room and down the hallway. When she turned to walk down the stairs, she saw her father and mother with Mandel and his father in the foyer. They all looked up at her. The sight of them caught her off guard and she stopped dead in her tracks at the top of the stairs. Her mind was blank.

"Oh, there she is." her mother said. "Come down and join us, dear."

"Of course." Abigail whispered under her breath. She hadn't meant to be so flustered. It felt like her face was burning at 100 degrees. _I'll just have to hope that it doesn't show on my face._

Other girls her age, or maybe even younger, dreamed of finding the right man, settling down, getting married, starting a family, etc.. Abigail did not. She had always dreamt of being free and such things like 'falling in love' were chains that would tie her down. It's not that Mandel was horrible. The reason that she was so repulsed by him was because she had no desire of such things that he had to offer. _Love, companionship, family, children, a home. Like I want that._

The only person she had ever loved, in any sort of way, was Walker. _No. I can't think about him. He betrayed me. All that love has ever gotten me is a knife in the back. I don't want it. And I don't need it._

Abigail descended down the stairs.

"Dinner is ready and on the table. Let's go and eat." her mother said and she and her father and Mandel's father, Tom, went into the kitchen.

When Abigail climbed down the last step, Mandel was waiting by the banister. "Hello," he said. He took her hand and kissed it. "It is nice to meet you."

"It is nice to meet you too." Abigail said. She put a small smile on her face even though she felt like cutting off her hand. She and Mandel had seen each other before, and maybe even talked for a second with each other, but this was the first time they had been formally introduced.

"Shall we go into the dinning room?" he asked.

"Of course." Mandel offered her his arm and she took it.

They walked into the dinning room arm in arm. Mandel pulled her chair out for her and she sat down and then he went and sat into his own chair across from her. Abigail's mother laid the food on the table and they all fixed their plates and began to eat.

As they were eating Abigail focused her attention on Mandel. She studied his face, his mannerisms, and his posture, to see how much she could notice about a person just by watching them. He wasn't ugly but he wasn't the most handsome boy she had seen. His hair was a curly brown and his eyes blue and his jaw was square. Every time before he spoke, he would rub the thumb and forefinger of his right hand together and lean forward slightly. If Mandel caught her looking at him, she would cast her gaze shyly down and would try her best to make it look like she was blushing.

"Did you hear about the break in at the old castle?" Tom asked Abigail's father. Abigail's attention was drawn from Mandel to the conversation. She had not heard anything about it and to say the least she was interested.

"No. What happened?" her father asked slightly shocked.

"Well, these men managed to get past the guards standing watch at the old castle and snuck in. They were in there for many hours before a guard heard them. The guard tried to arrest them but they got away. The guards took inventory of the entire castle but they found nothing missing. They didn't even find anything having the look of being touched. These people who broke in must have been experienced to go through most of the castle with hardly leaving a trace. I think that if the guard hadn't found them they would have gotten away with it."

"Then it's good that they didn't have a chance to find what they were looking for."

"I wonder who they were. Do you have any ideas?"

"This of course wasn't any regular kid or man off of the street. There's always the Domia abr kyn. They've been stirring things up for decades. Centuries even. Also, it could be come hooligan magicians. But I'm not sure about any of them."

"If they had succeeded with the break in, I bet nothing good would have come from it. We could have just escaped a very nasty disaster."

"Like I said. It's good that they didn't get what they wanted."

"Very good indeed."

They started to talk about something else but Abigail didn't listen. She was much too absorbed in her own thoughts to even act like she cared. The old castle was the castle that King Galbatorix had ruled in and many of the kings before him had also. After the mad king had died a large explosion occurred destroying most of the castle's inner being. When Queen Nasuada reigned, she moved the castle to one of the castle's that had once been one of the Forsworn's home. The old castle was still used but as a kind of storage space for things that the public was not meant to see. Secrets that King Galbatorix had once created but that everyone else felt best if they were forgotten.

_Great things must be hidden inside of that castle. Things that I can't imagine. Things that could change the world in a second. _She had to agree with Tom and her father on that it's good that the thieves didn't find what they were looking for. _Yes, it's very good that they didn't find whatever it is. They couldn't have. The guards took a careful inventory of everything and nothing was missing. But that castle must have so many secrets and there must be some that the guards haven't ever seen. If they haven't ever seen or known about something then how would they notice if it was gone._ _No. Those thieves couldn't have successfully stolen something. Could they?_

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><p>Abigail sat on the porch as she listened to Mandel talk about such things like the weather, crops, and horses. She smiled and nodded whenever she needed to though her mind was still haunted by the castle break in. Their parents were inside talking about other stuff. <em>I wonder if they're talking about marriage. Oh, I swear if I have to get married to this idiot I'll die right then and there. <em>

_But I won't have to, _she reminded herself. _I won't have to._

"The stars look beautiful tonight," said Mandel.

"They do," she replied. The stars actually were beautiful as they twinkled in the night. They reminded her of a song she had heard from a traveling gypsy when she was about seven. She started to sing it:

_like the stars and the night_

_we are always together_

_I am the yin and you are the yang_

_different but always intertwined_

_but one day you were not there_

_the world broke beneath my feet_

_there was nothing to balance me_

_now you are gone and I am alone_

_yet I dream for the day that we may be together again_

"You have a lovely singing voice," Mandel told her.

He was looking at her with an expression in his blue eyes she had never seen before. Mandel's eyes glimmered along with the stars as he looked . . . fondly upon her. His gaze made her blush. _That look would make any girl blush of course._

"Thank you," she whispered.

Their parents opened the front door and walked out onto the porch as they were saying their goodbyes. Mandel turned back to Abigail and said, "It was very nice meeting you. I hope to see you again, soon."

"I'd like that." she lied to him.

Mandel leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the brow. For the second time that day she blushed. She had never felt anything as wonderful as someone's lips against her skin. _Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have a companion. To have someone to talk to or to just simply be with. Wait! No. What am I thinking? I don't need anyone and I don't want anyone, especially not someone of the opposite sex._

"Good night," said Mandel.

"Good night."

He and his father left.

Abigail looked at her father and put on a little innocent smile for show."He's a good man." her father said and then he walked back into the house.

"Yes, he is." she said. _No, he isn't._

"Abigail. Please help me wash the dishes, dear." her mother said.

Abigail helped her mother wash the dishes and clean up the table and kitchen before escaping to her room. She took a wash towel from the kitchen so she could cover up the pieces of the shattered mirror. She was planning on getting rid of that mirror tonight. But first she had to wait for her parents to settle to bed and fall asleep. To be caught sneaking out would be a disaster but she had already done it enough times that it had become second nature to her.

At some point she must have dozed off because when she opened her eyes it was very dark. _It's probably around midnight. They'll surely be asleep by now. _She gathered the mirror pieces in the wash towel and walked out of her room. When she came to the staircase, she sat on the stair rail and slid down it. Right before she reached the end she grabbed a piece of the stair rail high up to stop the rest of her body from falling. She stepped off the rail and opened the front door with such caution and experience that it did not make a sound.

Abigail leisurely walked out into the fields and made her way by the light of the stars and the waning moon to the stream she had found earlier and that had become so familiar to her in the past two could see quite well in the dark, a trait she would have to thank her carrots for.

When she got to the stream she took out each individual piece of the mirror one by one and threw them all into the running stream. The current caught them and helped them on their slow journey downstream. She sat down on the bank as she watched the running water without really seeing it.

_Someone must have been using that mirror to spy on me. It is the only explanation. But who would spy on me? They would have to use magic to do something like that. The Domia abr kyn are the only people that would spy on me but they don't use magic. But they do use the Ancient Language. How is it that a group who opposes the dragons and Riders and the magicians, and anything that has to do with magic really, knows the Ancient Language? _That wasn't the only thing they had done that had puzzled her.

"_**So, when do you want to torture me?" She had asked.**__**"Just name a time. I'll do it."**_

"_**Not for a while." Edoc'sil had replied puzzling Abigail. **_**Wouldn't they have want to do it as soon as possible?**

"_**Why?"**_

"_**Lange, please escort Miss Abigail out. I have other business that I must attend to." He had stood up and walked out of the room and Lange then had escorted her out as ordered.**_

She couldn't help but to play those few seconds over and over in her mind. _Why would they want to wait a long time? It makes no sense. If they want to get rid of Walker and that _thing_ then they need to do it quickly before he gets too far away or to the capital. _She had not expected that coming and it made her feel as if she was being tricked. Any thing, no matter how small, could prove to be fatal toward her. _Did I really think that I could play a group as organized and devious as the Domia abr kyn? I could always run. There is one good thing about being a girl in this society. You can disappear easily because no ever suspects that a 'poor helpless damsel' could ever be in any kind of trouble, even if _she_ was the one causing it._

Abigail picked up two equally sized stones and put one in each hand. She unlocked that place in her mind and both of the stones lifted off of her hands and she stopped them about three inches in the air. With magic she threw the stones into the air and landed them in the opposite hand they had been in earlier without moving her arms or hands. It was an exercise she had been practicing but it always left her very exhausted. She knew eventually she would grow stronger but she knew it still wouldn't be enough for her to do the big magic she dreamed of.

_There must be some way of getting energy from outside of myself._ All around her was energy from plants, trees, and animals but she had absolutely no idea how to trigger it.

Her eyes began to droop as energy slipped out of her. It had been a long tiring day. Her body and mind deserved some rest. She stood up and walked back home.

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><p><em>Why does everyone talk whenever we start a meeting?<em> Edoc'sil whistled loudly and everyone immediately silenced and looked toward him. They knew the consequences of loquaciousness when he wanted silence all too well.

"I know it is late in the night and that I did not give you any warning of this meeting. I myself got no warning of what I heard today." He fell silent for a second to let the suspense sink in. "Today I was visited by one of the most unlikely sort of people. A woman named Abigail Moransson, twin sister to Walker Moransson, who as you already know is the new rider to the dragon, Ingothold. She privileged me to some very useful information. She and her brother have a connection, a bond, almost like that of the dragons and riders. They feel when the other is in trouble. Miss Abigail has offered up this bond to us so that we may draw the new dragon and rider out with it."

"Did she say she had this bond in the Ancient Language?" a man asked.

"Yes. It is no lie."

"And how are we to trigger this bond?"

"She said that we are to torture her."

"Torture her?" someone said.

"She must be mad," another man said.

"But she is right." said Edoc'sil. "The rider will feel that she is in danger and since he loves her he will come for her and that is where we capture him and his dragon."

"What does she want in return?"

"Merely for us to protect her from the repercussions of some unknown event. That is all."

"So, when are we to kill this new rider and dragon."

"We're not going to kill them."

"What?" Many other men mumbled along in confusion with him.

"Gentlemen. This is a golden opportunity. Nothing of this value will appear ever, _ever_ again. The boy will be so blinded by his fear for his sister that he will do anything to save her and such love will lead to reckless behavior. If we time this right, he could lead us to the stronghold where all of the dragons and riders are. We could take them by surprise and instead of getting rid of _one_ insignificant pair we can finally meet our destiny and get rid of _all_ of them." The men mumbled in agreement.

"But, what of the girl," one of them asked. "How do we know that she won't run away? She can't be let wandering about like this. Something so valuable should be kept where it can be watched."

"There is a simple answer. We'll just have to cage her then."

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><p><strong>Did you like it? Did you like the song? If you did (or if you have any suggestions about the story) please, Please, PLEASE review.<strong> **I would absolutely love it if you did.**


	7. Truth or False?

**Sorry for the long wait.**

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><p>Walker had decided that he quite hated traveling. Two days was more than enough to make that opinion. The worst part was the saddle soreness. His legs would be stiff from riding all day and when he would wake up the next morning it was only worse. And having to ride all of the next day did not help either. The reason why Abigail wanted to travel would always remain a mystery to him.<p>

Ingothold loved the open air, though. He would scuttle along the road and through the trees purposely scaring the nearby small animals. His purpose was merely to scare, not to hunt. Whenever a small woodland creature squeaked and ran fearfully away Ingothold's eyes would light up and a small rumbling sounded in his throat. He enjoyed having other smaller animals fear him.

It seemed that no matter what the little dragon did he always managed to brighten up Walker's day.

The little dragon was venturing farther into the woods and away from Walker which was making Walker very nervous. _**Ingothold, come back.**_ Walker projected the message to the dragon. Ingothold turned his head to look back at him and then hesitantly came back to Walker. When he came near Walker's horse he jumped and flapped his wings a few times so he was able to make it into the saddle and he laid down in front of Walker.

Walker glanced into the trees. Since they had left the safety of the Hall, he was nervous about the Domia abr kyn, and whoever else wanted to kill him and Ingothold. The safety of having trained guards around him did not amount to the safety of walls to him. They were out in the wilderness and who knows what was lurking behind those trees.

Ingothold rubbed his head against Walker's arm. Walker looked down into the dragon's violet eyes. Ingothold made a sharp click sound with his tongue and sent an image into Walker's head.

_**To stop worrying isn't that easy.**_ Walker replied.

The dragon snorted and then started to climb up the horse's neck and watch the scenery.

"He's right." Vesta came up walking beside his horse. "You should stop worrying. We're perfectly capable of protecting you. And also, the closest person is all the way back in Therinsford. You have nothing to worry about." Even though she was walking, she was keeping pace with his trotting horse without any sign of tiring.

"It's not that easy," he replied.

"I know. When I first connected with Eridor, I was terrified that something would happen to him. I wouldn't let him be more than three feet away from me and I wouldn't let anyone start to approach him or really even think about it. It's a mysterious thing how even though you have only been with each other a few days you care about them more than anyone else and you can't even begin to image your life without them."

"It is. Even though I never wanted this life in the first place, I don't want to go back at all."

Walker watched Ingothold lay across the horse's neck and let his tail dangle toward the ground. _That's strange. The horse doesn't seem to mind at all._ Back in Carvahall every single horse in a mile radius would be screaming its head off if a dragon was near. "How come all of the horses are calm," he asked Vesta.

"They've gotten used to being near dragons, that's all. Catherine here," she patted the horse's side, "has practically lived with dragons ever since she was born. It would probably be strange to her not to have one near."

"Does that apply to other things also?"

"Like what?"

"Like battle, fighting, killing, the like. Do you eventually get used to it?"

A somber mien settled onto her face. She sighed and then began to speak but she did not look into his eyes again. "This world is filled with all different kinds of people. Some adjust easily and some . . . do not. There are also others who adjust somewhat and are not overcome by guilt. Killing is not a very good thing to get used to and most people never do. The trick is to not let it overcome your life. Do not ever relish in killing but neither should you refuse it as a sacrifice that is needed to be made. I will say though that you will most likely get used to it somewhat but never completely."

"Have you ever gotten used to it, somewhat?"

There was silent pause before she spoke again. "That is not a very appropriate question to ask someone, Walker." She finally turned her head to look back at him. By her tone and expression he could see that he had vexed her. "You should not ask that again."

"I understand. And I'm sorry."

"It is all right." Vesta focused her attention up ahead. Her face brightened up all of a sudden. "Oh, look." she told him and pointed to the steepest mountain Walker had ever seen. It was about a mile away and rose up above all of the other mountains and its peak was hidden in the clouds. The mountain was so steep that no trees had any room to grow on it and no animals could find footholds on it either.

_The only way to get to the peak must be to fly_,he thought. "Utgard." he whispered as he remembered people saying that it was one of the steepest mountains in Alagaësia.

"Yes," Vesta replied.

"Didn't it used to be a Rider's outpost before the Fall? And Vrael, he died there, right?" Walker said. He already knew about how Vrael had been defeated by Galbatorix there but he hoped to somehow brush off the effects of his question from earlier.

"Yes. The Council is considering rebuilding the outpost, but it won't be for a while."

"Why do they want to rebuild it?"

"All Rider's swords are made from this special metal called Brightsteel. We believe that there is a large deposit in these mountains around Palancar Valley. Eventually we hope to mine for it but first we need an outpost around here so bringing in supplies will be easier."

Walker stared into the clouds curious to see what the old Rider's outpost looked like. _I wonder what it looks like now. I hope I'll be able to see it before it gets repaired._ The ruins of history were more alluring to Walker than the progressive present.

"If you're lucky, you may be able to have your sword crafted from Brightsteel taken from your own familiar valley," said Vesta.

"If I'm lucky," he repeated.

They reached Utgard at dusk and camped at the base of the mountain. Walker decided to sleep under the stars that night. He gazed into the depths of the universe from his little patch of dirt and let serenity pass over him as a light winter breeze does. Ingothold was curled up into a ball by his side where he had fallen asleep the second he had settled down. It took Walker longer to fall asleep but after a while nature sung its sweet lullaby and he drifted off into sleep.

The next morning saddle soreness reared its ugly head again. He could barely move an inch and he thought if he had to endure another day of traveling he would just have to die. It took all of his self-will and Ingothold's prodding to get back on Catherine and through a third day of traveling.

That day they made it all of the way around Utgard and into the plains. The mountains opened up into flat open land as far as the eye could see. For the land to open so suddenly was startling to Walker. He had never in his life been out of the mountains, ever. And now he was journeying into the plains and he felt more exposed than ever before. It felt wrong for his sight to stop seeing first rather than having something get in the way in the first place.

They rode on until night started to creep in on the day once more and camped by the Anora River. Walker sat alone at a fire he had just made as he watched Ingothold hunt as he crouched in the tall grass. Ingothold caught sight of a field mouse and was reading to pounce. The dragon pounced and caught the mouse in his mouth. He bit down and swung it around until it was limp before coming back to the fire to eat it.

"A fine catch." said Vesta as she walked toward them with Eridor following behind her. She had two swords in her hand and held out one to Walker. "I've given you three days to rest from the newness of traveling but now it is time to start training again."

"You only gave me three days."

"And it should be enough. Now get up."

Walker bit his lip to hold in a groan and he took the sword Vesta offered him. He ran his finger along the edge of the blade to check that she had dulled it so they wouldn't hurt the other. _Not like I'd have any change of hurting her anyway._

It was painful but he managed to slowly edge himself onto his feet. Eridor laid down on the ground and closed his eyes but Walker doubted that he wasn't aware of all of the things going on around him. They each took a fighting stance across from each other. Walker was strong enough to wield a sword from working in the blacksmith with his father all of time but he lacked essential balance and agility.

"On guard." Vesta said and then she attacked. She lunged and aimed for his side. He was able to jump out of the way just in time. He then swung his sword to knock hers out of her hands but she pulled it back toward herself before he could make impact. Again she lunged and ended the match by striking him on the stomach.

They continued on this way for several more matches. All of the matches ended after only a few blows and Walker always lost. Sword-fighting taxed his body unlike anything else. An hour passed. Walker was covered in perspiration and he was panting worse than a dog. But Vesta showed no perceptible signs of tiring and she pressed him on.

With one easy blow she knocked his sword out of his hand and onto the ground five feet away. She did save him the trouble though by walking over and picking it up and handing it to him but she still said, "Again."

Walker took the sword and wiped some sweat out his eyes. He could not go on. No matter how hard he tried. He opened his mouth to protest.

"Vesta. Give the boy a break. He's worked hard enough already. And just look at him. If you drive him any further, he'll have died of exhaustion before we even reach Gilead." a man said.

Walker had been too preoccupied before to notice a man watching them duel. The man was rather old with white hair and a beard that stood out in many different directions. A staff made up of knotted hawthorns laid across his lap. He was clad in a long brown woolen cloak that had two openings on the sides so the man could move his arms more freely. His face held wrinkles from smiling many times and he wore a smile on his face now.

"Master Paterum worked me just as hard when Eridor hatched for me." Vesta replied.

"But you were such an eager learner. You wanted to continue on, and I'm sure that if you were tired like him," he motioned toward Walker, "he would have called it a day."

"I doubt that."

"He would. And also the boy has lots of time before he has to be presented before the king."

Vesta considered it but she still wasn't entirely convinced. She turned back toward Walker and raised her sword. "On guard."

"Wait," Walker said. Vesta stopped in her tracks, mid-lunge. "You really should listen to him," he said as he motioned toward the man. "Really. You should listen to such a wise man as. . ."

"Thomas." the man said.

"As Thomas who should know such things and be a very reliable person to . . . to rely on."

"How would you know if he is wise or not if you didn't even know his name?" she asked.

"You can just tell. By merely looking at him." It was the best excuse he had.

She lowered her sword. "Fine. I'll give you a break. But _definitely_ not for any reason you two proposed." Vesta took both of the swords and sat down by Eridor while Walker plopped down onto the ground. He looked at Thomas and gave a nod as a silent "Thank you."

"Here take this," Thomas handed him a water bottle and he took it and drank heartily. "So, how is that old Master Paterum of yours doing?" he asked Vesta.

"He's doing quite well, actually. He is one of the highest of Elders." Vesta replied rather coldly.

"Hmm. Good for him." he turned to Walker. "I've only ever met him once and once is once enough. But before I met him you wouldn't believe the number of stories I had heard about him. He had left the company in protecting the eggs and their new Riders to become part of this council, the one that Vesta just mentioned, right before I joined. That's how I heard about how Vesta was such an eager learner when she became a Rider. Master Paterum is a very strict, hard-working man, but I'm still positive about some_ things_ that he would have done." He glanced back at Vesta for a second. "Speaking of stories-."

"Oh no." Vesta groaned. "Not one of your stories."

"_Yes._ _One of my stories_."

She turned to Walker. "Don't believe any thing from his stories. They're fables and they have about as much truth as a puddle is deep."

"I've heard many stories in my time," Thomas said, "and at least _one_ of them has to be true. And I know just the one."

"It is the one I tell all of the Riders I meet." Thomas and Vesta said in unison.

Vesta rolled her eyes and Thomas turned to her. "Do you want to tell the story or should I?"

"No, you can go on."

He turned back to Walker. "It is the one I tell all of the Riders I meet. It's about the Satini. They're creatures not made by the powerful gods, but by man. They're creatures filled completely with evil that can choke the goodness out of anything. Their skin is darker than the night and slimy with mucous that their skin expels. Their heads are thin and shaped like an arrow's head with beady red eyes and they have wings that seem to be made of leather as thick as a pommel of a sword. They cannot reproduce like regular animals but must be made by performing a certain ritual that will merge a Ra'zac egg with that of a dragon's."

"Really." The thought of a Ra'zac's egg and a dragon's egg merging together was dreadful but yet fascinating.

"Yes, really."

Vesta snorted.

"The Satini were swifter and faster than any animal anyone had seen before. They could emit this poisonous gas in their breath that could swipe every living thing dead for 100 yards. But when the Ra'zac War ended there were no eggs left to merge with the dragon eggs and since the Satini couldn't reproduce they eventually died and were seen no more. But what the group of men, the Santari, that had created them, didn't know was that there were Ra'zac eggs that had survived the war and in fact are still in existence today."

"Wait. That can't be possible. Eragon killed the last two Ra'zac and they had no eggs. There couldn't possibly be any left."

"Oh, but there is. The King Galbatorix found some that had survived long ago and he hid them so he could hatch them at the precise moment. But he never got the chance to. I assume that he didn't know about the Satini though, because he did have both a Ra'zac egg and a dragon egg in his possession and he didn't make one."

"Maybe he didn't know the ritual."

"Maybe."

"Where do you think the Ra'zac eggs could be now?"

"Anywhere."

"Anywhere," he repeated.

"And most important, with _anyone_."

"How many people know about the Satini?"

"Only a handful of people, actually. They have become part of legends that have been left mostly untold for centuries. But once you hear about the Satini your mind finds them hard to forget. And there's also another handful of people who are . . . hmm. What's the word? Crazy, maybe, or superstitious, like me. Oh, wait." Thomas snapped his fingers. "Off is the word. They are off, but only to the common man's standards of course."

"You consider yourself to be crazy."

"No! Of course not. I am no common man."

Walker tried to stop his lips from smiling. This man, Thomas, was unlike anyone else he had ever known. He was very unpredictable and uncanny and made Walker's skin crawl in a way he liked it. Every single word that fell from his tongue mystified him and had him on his tiptoes eagerly awaiting to hear what else Thomas knew of the Satini.

"Do you really think that someone would make a Satini?" he asked Thomas.

"Walker." He turned toward Vesta who was standing over him and Thomas with her hands placed on her hips. "Both you and I have heard enough of this nonsense. It isn't real. And I'll prove it to you."

"And I'll tell you Vesta that you must say 'that this is what I tell all of the Riders I meet' because you do." Thomas said.

"I only end up telling this to every Rider I meet because _you_, Thomas, always tell that story to every Rider you meet. That story about the Satini is a load of rubbish and then I have to clean it up."

"Go ahead with what you were saying. But remember how to begin it." he replied.

Vesta struggled to keep her calm as she turned back to Walker. "The Satini are rubbish. They are a made-up story made by some half-crazed lunatic man. Nothing more." She glanced once at Thomas to emphasize the fact that she didn't use his chosen beginning. "Firstly, as Thomas said: there are only a handful of people who have actually heard about them. If something so fearful actually had existed then I doubt people would forget such creatures so quickly and in such a short span of time. Some stories are as old as Time himself and have still not died out to this day. Secondly, there is no evidence that the Satini ever did exist. None. And lastly, to conjoin two different species from their eggs would take a spell that would cost an enormous amount of energy. It would cost too much energy and the spellcasters would have died before the spell was completed. Especially if they were mere men. _I_ of all three of us should know this. So do you see, Walker? It's a myth. An old wives' tale. It will do you good to dismiss it. Now, Excuse me." She walked away and Eridor got up and followed behind her through the camp toward their tent.

Walker felt tossed upside down. "I've never seen her act like this before. I don't know what's with her," he said.

"Tsk. Women."

* * *

><p><strong>Did you like it? Did you like the song? If you did (or if you have any suggestions about the story) please, Please, PLEASE review.<strong> **I would absolutely love it if you did.**


	8. Kingkiller

_The chain rattled. At first Walker didn't understand why the chain was rattling for there was no wind but then he saw her. _Abigail._ The chain was attached to the rocky ceiling a hundred feet above with Abigail suspended by her wrists over an abyss at the other end. She struggled to climb up the chain but her arms weren't strong enough to pull her whole body upward. Blood oozed from her wrists where she had been chafed by the cold metal. There was a look in her eyes that he had never seen before. Fear._

_There was no way of knowing but both of them knew that the chain was going to break free from the ceiling any second._

"_Walker," Abigail cried out to him. "Walker, help me! Help me! Don't let me fall! Please, do something. Please. Please, brother. Don't let me–." Her voice was strangled by her sobs of desperation._

"_You don't have to worry. I'll save you. I promise. I won't let you down." he told her._

_As he stood up he became aware of where he was. Walker was on a ledge that jutted precariously outward into the abyss. He turned around and searched for anything of value but there was nothing but rock. _No. There has to be something. She can't die. I won't let her.

"_WALKER!"_

_Her piercing scream attacked him with the shivers._ _He whirled around and was thankful to see that Abigail still hung in the air. Their eyes met and he was surprised by the way she looked at him. It wasn't a look of desperation, or of fright. Her expression was accusatory, blaming. The knot in Walker's stomach that had been laying low for the past few days tightened and convulsed. The guilt that came upon him was too much for him to bear._

_He opened his mouth to speak._

_SNAP!_

_The chain finally broke and Abigail was plunged into the abyss._

"_NO!" Walker yelled._

_He ran forward and jumped over the ledge after her into the abyss. There had been no thought about jumping; he had just done it. All that he could remember was his love for her. About how he would go to the ends of the earth or to the bottom of this abyss to save her if that was what it took. He had failed her once. He could not fail her again._

_A white flash blinded him and the next thing he knew he was standing in a house watching a middle-aged Abigail as she washed the dishes. In the doorway stood a shrouded figure, whom Walker knew was Abigail's husband without a doubt. The man charged in and grabbed Abigail by the arm, yanked, and hurled her into the wall. He grabbed her and started to beat her brutally._

_Walker ran toward her but he did not move. He doubled his speed and put all of his energy into running but he still didn't get any closer. In fact the scene got farther and farther away from him until he could see it no more._

_Next, a sequence of images and scenes clouded his view. They were of Abigail's life. He saw her getting married, having children, taking care of house, and getting beaten by her bastard of a husband. Even when the images were of Abigail with her children Abigail's face was still dark and haunted by the deep sorrow etched into her skin. The spirit that she had once had that Walker had always used to see in her was shattered and cast into oblivion._

_Finally, he was projected into one last scene. He was in the middle of a meadow with the mountains of the Spine climbing toward the sky in the distance. Before him was a grave._

_His heart plummeted._

_There were no markings on the grave; there didn't have to be. He knew whose it was._

_He dropped to his knees in front of it and words started to tumble out of him."I'm sorry. It's all my fault, Abby. And I can't fix it." He gulped to unclench his throat. There was more to say. "I doomed you to this wretched life. Not only did I doom you, but I spat in your face. I've never understood how a person could forgive someone for all the horrible things they had done to them in the past. I don't understand . . . I don't understand how you could forgive me. I'm not going to ask you to try either." He took a deep breath and said, "I don't deserve to be forgiven."_

_Walker looked back up at the grave. Nothing happened. "I know you're there. I can't just be talking to a _rock_."_

_The grave lay still. But of course it did. It _was_ made out of rock. Walker couldn't change the past or the future just like he couldn't change the rock of the grave into something else. Time was set in stone. The truth of that statement was what scared Walker the most._

Walker woke up back in his tent in the plains miles away from his home and Abigail. His hands and underarms were slimy with his perspiration. His fear had sent a quick jolt of adrenalin through his body which had struck a sharp pain in his head producing a headache that would last for quite a while.

Ingothold woke from where he slept in the crook of Walker's arm from the stiffening of Walker's body and their connection which told him that his rider was not all right. The purple dragon lifted his head and surveyed his partner-in-life carefully. He was not yet an old enough dragon to projected actual sentences from his mind to Walker's but Walker still knew that the dragon was worried about him through their touch. Walker rubbed Ingothold's snout and neck and the warmth and realness of his scales abated Walker's nerves but did not diminish them completely.

"She's back. And more haunting than ever," said Walker to Ingothold.

While staying in the Hall back in Carvahall, Walker had been bombarded by dreams of Abigail. The nightmares had made his blood run quickly but the brutally tiring training secessions with Vesta had helped him manage to always go back to sleep. Once they had hit the rode, his mind had started to be occupied by his excitement of seeing all of the new scenery and places and also by his curiosity for what laid ahead. Abigail had been pushed to the borders of his mind and he had forgotten her. Until now.

The dreams he had back in the Hall had been nothing compared to this one. This one stunk with its realness. Everything in the dream had felt real, and most would probably become Abigail's reality, but most important, Walker did not regret a single word he had said. Many of the traders that would come into town would also tell stories and in those stories people's relationships would fit into place so easily. In many of the stories' endings one of the people, who had betrayed the others or had done something harmful, would ask for the hero's forgiveness and the hero would grant it. Those parts of the stories were the ones that would stick in Walker's brain for days afterwards and bother him to his core. _How can someone forgive a person for doing such evil things they had done to them and to other helpless people? It doesn't seem right. Shouldn't they have to pay for what they have done?_

Ingothold rubbed his snout against Walker's arm but other than that he gave no reply.

_I need Vesta,_ Walker thought.

She knew the answers to all such questions and in the past she had been able to sooth Walker's nerves. Vesta was very wise, a result from being alive for a couple of centuries. _She certainly has the wisdom of the ages. _If anyone could make sense of his guilt, it would be she.

He peered out through the flap of his tent. The sun was just beginning to rise but already a few people were up and about as they prepared for another day's journey. A grim demeanor emanated from everyone. Walker wondered why.

Walker put on his boots and Ingothold crawled onto his shoulders. He walked out into the fresh chill air of a new dawning day. The scent of the plains and the sound of the rushing Anora River were the same as the previous day but in the camp something had changed over night. Walker could feel it.

He walked through the camp searching for Vesta. He didn't bother asking where she was because the people didn't look to be too helpful at the moment. Eventually, he found her huddled in a circle with some others with their backs turned to him.

Right before he called out to her, Walker caught himself as he saw what they were huddled around. It was an Urgal. The Urgal was tied with his back against a pole staked into the ground. A bloody slash ran across his forehead, over his left temple, and down his neck. He looked to be in hysterics. The muscles in the Urgal's arms bulged as the pushed against the rope around him but he was left with no reward for all of his struggles. The Urgal was shouting but his hoarse voice didn't carry far. As the group of people stood around him, they tried to find out what to do with him.

It felt wrong to Walker to be watching this private discussion go on. He had not been privy to this information yet so it was wrong to eavesdrop. Still, he made no move to leave. But he did hide behind a barrel. The Urgal's voice was so hoarse that his words blended together and faded out and in so Walker had to strain his ears to make out his hysteric words.

"He was flying in the night sky. We . . . we had to get away. He had come back to enslave us for sure . . . following the Dark King in his footsteps. My race could not be condemned again to that fate. All of the stories . . . I had heard. No. We ran . . . far away. We could not get caught. No. . . . not by him . . . the Kingkiller." Those last two words had come out so quietly Walker questioned whether he had heard them correctly.

_The Kingkiller._ Walker knew that was one of Eragon Shadeslayer's many names that he had inherited after killing King Galbatorix, but there was no reason for him to come back to Alagaësia especially to enslave the Urgals. Eragon was a good person, not evil. _The Urgal must be mistaken._

One of the men standing around the Urgal crouched down in front of him. Walker leaned forward pressing against the barrels. "We caught you running crazily through our camp. You injured two of our men. How can we know that you were truly running away from this Kingkiller and not targeting us?" said the man.

"I swear . . . I wasn't attacking you. We . . . Urgals . . . may raid your cities . . . but we would never harm a Dragon Rider. Such a thought would rain down endless shame upon you and your dare you accuse me so?" The Urgal's face contorted and he spitted onto the man's face.

The man jerked back in alarm but Walker could not see his face. Spitting on a person was one of the most dishonorable things you could do to them. Anyone would understand if the man lost his temper. And lose his temper he did. The man grabbed the Urgal by one of his horns and yanked his head back exposing his neck and pressing a knife to it.

Vesta raised her hand out before her silently telling the enraged man to yield. The man drew away and sheathed his knife. She glanced behind her shoulder for a brief second and her and Walker's eyes met before she turned back to the prisoner. She knew that he was here.

"What did this Kingkiller look like?" Vesta asked the Urgal.

"I only saw him from afar but I am sure it was he." The Urgal's voice was getting fainter and fainter. Walker tipped the barrels precariously so he could lean even farther between them and hear the Urgal speak. "He was riding on his dragon so far up in the sky you could assume them to be birds. They plunged down toward us and as they got closer I could see the color of the dragon. It was—."

_Thump!_

The barrels that Walker had been hiding against slipped from his fingers and tumbled to the ground with Walker and Ingothold following behind. The dragon squeaked sharply by instinct which only added to the noise causing everyone to turn and stare at them. Vesta, of course, was the only one not surprised. Walker's face was cherry red as he got up off the ground, mumbled some apologies, and tried to easily escape from he would think back on that moment in the future, he'd think that his escape could have been quite smooth compared to what it ended up being like because of the Urgal.

The Urgal started to shake his head madly and fight his bonds. "Murderer! Thief! Will-breaker! You steal ourselves from us!" He looked at Walker with rage and . . . fear in his face. Then he jerked his gaze away and struggled with new vigor against his bonds. "This is your new Rider! Him! You're evil! You all are going back to the dark! Putting yourselves on power and enslaving creatures unlike you! Evil! We should have known not to trust you! History will repeat itself! And _you_ will be the cause!" When the Urgal said 'you' he looked straight at Walker. Ingothold cowered on Walker's shoulder hiding from the Urgal's livid gaze.

"What is he talking about?" asked Walker.

Vesta walked over to Walker and took his arm and started to lead him away. He resisted some what because he needed to know why the Urgal was saying such things. "Explain to me. Why is he saying that?" he asked Vesta.

"Come with me." That was all she said as she pulled Walker's arm leading him to the edge of the camp.

"No," said Walker in a low tone. He planted his feet firmly on the ground so he couldn't be dragged away.

Vesta stopped pulling him and turned around to stare intensely into his eyes. She also spoke in a low tone that was commanding and gentle in the way that a mother orders her children sternly for the sake of their safety. "Come with me," she repeated and she gently started to tug his arm again.

Walker glanced back at the Urgal. They had placed a gag over the Urgal's mouth so his enraged words only came out in little muffled sounds. He still struggled against the rope tied around him and he stared at the ground around his feet so he did not meet Walker's gaze. _Why is he acting this way?_

"All right," Walker said. He let Vesta lead him away to the edges of the camp where the golden dragon Eridor lay. When they stopped in front of the dragon Walker turned to her and asked, "What happened?"

"The Urgal is Skillet. In the middle of the night he was in a wild blind rage and ran into our camp. He injured two of our men quite badly before we were able to subdue him and tether him to that pole. We've been trying to get him to talk intelligible sentences ever since but he just keeps on rambling about Kingkiller." She shook her head and mumbled, "This doesn't make sense." She looked at a spot right beside Walker as her mind tried to make sense of the Urgal's words.

"Isn't Kingkiller one of Eragon Shadeslayer's many names?" asked Walker.

"Yes, it is," she replied, "but it's not he."

"I'm sure he wouldn't do anything horrible to the Urgals, but still, how can you be sure?"

_**Because the great Shadeslayer would not bother coming back to Alagaësia**_ _**to frighten a few Urgals.**_ said Eridor as he touched Walker's mind. _**Think! You know that.**_

"I know," said Walker, "but there could always be another reason that he didn't tell you about."

_**Whether there is an alternative motive, it is still not possible.**_

"Why?"

_**Because a hundred years ago Eragon Shadeslayer got his fortune told by the magician, Angela. She used dragon knuckle bones which never lie. One of the fortunes was that he would leave Alagaësia**_ **never**_** to return. He can't come back here so it cannot be he.**_

"Is there anyone else who goes by that name?" asked Walker.

"Not that either I or Eridor has heard of," said Vesta.

_**There could have been someone who lived in Eragon's age but there isn't anyway they could have lived this long unless they are an elf and if they were one we would have heard tell of them, **_said Eridor.

"But still there is someone out there whether they really are a Kingkiller or mistaken as one. He was not making that up." A sense of foreboding landed heavily in the pit of Walker's stomach as he mentioned Skillet.

_**Yes. I agree,**_ said Eridor.

When Walker had mentioned Skillet, he remembered another thing that he had seen that confused him.

"Why did Skillet react that way when he saw me?" he asked.

"Walker, I really don't know." said Vesta.

"I have no idea why he reacted that way to me. I haven't done anything to cause that."

"It's very unsettling having so many things in the unknown, but they are unknown." said Vesta. "I'm sorry, but neither of us knows anything about why Skillet reacted like that to you. I'm sure you haven't done anything to deserve that. It may be just because that Skillet was very uneasy and your sudden appearance pushed him over the deep end. That's the only logical explanation right now. But I do doubt that it's anything to be worried about."

"All right." said Walker. He didn't tell her that what she had said hadn't helped him one bit.

There was a moment of silence before Vesta glanced at Walker inquiringly. "What were you doing before you began eavesdropping on us anyway?" She kept her voice light and almost playful so Walker found himself answering before thinking about the painful topic the answer would bring up.

"I was looking for you because I wanted to tell you about these nightmares I've . . . been–." He stopped when he became aware of what he had been saying.

Ingothold reminded him that he had been going to tell her about his dreams anyway.

_I know. But whenever I think of her now all of the air whooshes out of me._ Walker did feel his heart falter within his chest.

"Abigail?" Vesta asked politely out of one of the many habits of conversation. She didn't need an answer.

"I won't ever be able to forget about her. It's impossible," said Walker.

Vesta raised an eyebrow at him. "A bit dramatic? Nothing is impossible."

This time it was Walker's turn to raise an eyebrow. "People who say that really are wrong. Is it possible to float in midair? No. And if it is not possible then it is . . . Hm. I've forgotten the word. What is it?"

_**Impossible,**_ said Eridor with a chuckle.

"Yes. That was it." Walker snapped his fingers in fake excitement as he found that 'escaping' word.

Vesta rolled her eyes. "The saying wasn't meant to apply to such things as floating in midair. It was meant to contradict people who say that something is impossible when it isn't; it's just difficult."

"I still think it's impossible," said Walker stubbornly as he mentioned Abigail again.

He could tell that Vesta was aggravated; he could hear her as she blew all of the air out of her lungs forcefully. Walker didn't want to say that she was puffing because the word seemed too childish to use concerning a grown woman well over a hundred years old. He also didn't want to anger her but no words presented themselves to him in his mind to say so he stayed quiet.

"I know what it's like," said Vesta. Walker looked at her but her eyes were gazing into nothingness just like before. "I know what it is like to have a person, or many people, whom you can't forget. I've been there. To forget does seem impossible but it really isn't. And the hardest part about forgetting is finally believing that you can. You can, Walker. Please, just believe it."

"How did you forget?" he asked her.

"Whenever they would come to mind I would sing a certain song in my head. I would repeat the lyrics over and over until my mind found something else to think about, and it always did eventually. And as time went on their visits to my mind became less frequent until they hardly come at all anymore."

"You sang a song?"

"Yes."

"And it worked?"

"Yes. There are sometimes when I think about them but that is merely for a few seconds between entire months of being forgotten."

"If you can do it, I can do it, right?" Walker asked apprehensively.

She nodded.

_I wonder if the people she has to forget are the people she's killed?_ But he didn't dare ask her that.

"You're going to try?" Vesta asked him.

Walker hesitated. But then he gave a small nod.

A little sympathetic smile came to Vesta's lips. She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "It'll be hard, but you can do it. Don't forget that. And don't doubt that you can't do anything ever again."

"What about floating in midair?"

"Except for that." she said jokingly. She gave his shoulder one more squeeze before letting go. "I've got to go see Rhylite and tell him about Skillet, but I'll be back when we set off again."

"All right," said Walker.

She left.

Walker looked toward Eridor who was looking at him in turn with his large battle-shield sized eyes. _**You should pick a song to sing now,**_ said the dragon before closing his eyes to return to rest.

_A song._

Walker sat down on the grass as he went through all of the songs he could remember. Ingothold jumped from his shoulder down onto the ground and raced around in the tall plain grass. At some points the grass was so tall it hid Ingothold completely from view.

_Which song?_ thought Walker. _It should be a song I know really well. And that's very catchy too._

After sitting there for several minutes he finally came upon the right song. It was an old nursery rhyme that Walker had learned when he was little.

_Where the waterfall goes, where up the plants grow_

_lies the cave of the mad fairy Rose. All who go near froze_

_for they feared him getting their nose._

Everyone in Carvahall taught the song to their children. The mad fairy Rose was supposed to scare them from going to Igualda Falls and slipping and hurting themselves. Losing your nose was a big deal to most children, but not to Abigail. She had never fallen for the tale but Walker had managed to keep her from going there and getting hurt.

_Abigail._ Time started to slow down around him and he began to sink back into his guilt. _No! I have to forget her. I _will _forget her._ He sang the song over and over again in his mind and tried to block her completely from his thoughts. _I will not keep dwelling on my guilt. I won't._

Walker kept singing until the song became stuck in his head and he couldn't stop repeating the lines. It was annoying not being able to stop singing the song. But at least Abigail's presence was gone.

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><p><strong>Did you like it? If you did (or if you have any suggestions about the story) please, Please, PLEASE review.<strong> **I would absolutely love it if you did.**


	9. Yazuac

**Sorry for the long wait in-between chapters. School has been keeping me busy. But that won't be a problem anymore because 'What time is it? : Summertime!' (I apologize for the cheesy High School Musical reference).**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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><p>Walker had no idea how many times he had sung that nursery rhyme in the next couple of days. He had lost count somewhere near thirty. Everything somehow reminded him of <em>her<em>. And every night he would miss at least one hour of sleep after waking up from one of his nightmares.

Ingothold was very helpful during those long midnight hours. The little dragon would run crazily all through their tent, bump into Walker's legs, and would reach into his rider's mind and call his name over and over again through their connection. While Ingothold's antics were annoying, they did help distract him. But the thing that he did that helped Walker the most was merely being with him. Someone's presence, especially someone Walker was close to, was very comforting.

During the day, Walker and Ingothold would spend their time with either Vesta and Eridor or with Thomas, but never at the same time. Vesta and Thomas despised each other and Eridor backed his rider even though the dragon didn't seem to dislike Thomas like Vesta did. One day Walker had asked Thomas when was the last time he and Vesta had had a proper argument-free conversation with each other. His reply was, "The last time a pig flew." The answer hadn't made any sense to Walker but he didn't try asking again because he assumed that he would get an answer that was even more quirky.

Vesta still forced Walker every day through the brutal physical exertion of sword-fighting. The exercise was so tortuous that he thought it should be outlawed. It made every move he made extraneous beyond being able to be rated. She worked him hard for about two hours without ceasing. In the morning he would wake to find himself as stiff as a board and having to have Ingothold half drag him out of bed. By the end of the day some of his muscles would have loosened up only to have the cycle start all over again.

When Vesta was away doing her duties, or 'training' someone else, Walker and Ingothold would spend their time with Thomas. The older man had a quirkiness about him that reminded Walker of a child. While they sat by the fire at night or were riding during the day Thomas would share his vast collection of stories. Some were about great historic battles with magnificent heroes while others were about red-eyed rabbits and other strange creatures that were so rare most people didn't even know they existed.

"Name any place and I can tell you with the entire truth that I've been there and back again," Thomas would always say. Walker named several places all of which Thomas had been to. He had been to Surda, Du Weldenvarden, Ellesmera, the Beor Mountains, Farthen Dur, across the Hadarac Desert, and to Hedarth.

After a few more names of places Thomas said, "Use your imagination. All of these places are in Alagaësia. I've been farther than the edges of the map."

"What about Vroengard?" asked Walker.

Thomas's face lost some of its normal childish joy. "Yes. I've been there too," he replied.

"Really." Walker's voice dripped with his surprise. He had thought that surely Thomas had never been there. "What was it like?"

"Grim," he replied in a tone that was the same as the description. Before Walker could ask any more questions, Thomas changed the subject to some red-eyed rabbits that he had seen while traveling on the eastern edge of the Beor Mountains.

_That's strange. He jumps to talk about mysterious topics and Vroengard is one of the most mysterious things to talk about._

_**Very strange.**_

Walker turned his head to look at Ingothold laying across his shoulders as usual. That was the first time he had heard Ingothold say something other than his name with words. Ingothold was only a couple of weeks out of egg and had already grown a good deal larger and heavier.

_**You dragons grow quickly.**_

_**Of course. We can't all be alike, especially if we're different species.**_ the dragon replied jokingly.

With each passing day Ingothold's mind grew rapidly more sophisticated. Ingothold told him that a dragon's mind matures even in the egg so when they hatch their mind is more mature than that of a human hatchling. They also pass their memories down to their descendants when the mother lays the egg.

_**What can you remember?**_ Walker asked.

_**I remember several of Eragon Shadeslayer's and Saphira Brightscales's adventures. I can remember the creatures they saw, the places they went, and the people they met.**_

_**Was Saphira your mother?**_

_**Yes.**_ By the dragon's tone Walker could tell that Ingothold was very proud of his mother.

Walker couldn't believe that a descendant of the great Saphira had chosen _him _to be his rider. Being picked as a rider had seemed unbelievable enough and this just added to its unbelievableness. He had always doubted that he would be a part of all of the great things happening in this world and yet here he was, a Rider.

_I need to stop being in denial and start believing. It's not that unbelievable that I got picked instead of Abigail._ The next thought he was careful to keep from Ingothold. _I wonder why he chose me instead of her._

"Where the waterfall goes . . . " he whispered.

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><p>In a couple of days they reached the city of Yazuac. The city was now inhabited with people that belonged to a religious group called the Growers. The Growers had never mixed easily with people of another religious background and had decided that they would find their own reclusive city. They traveled north until they came to the ruins of Yazuac and rebuilt the city from the ruins. The Grower's religion was centered strongly upon the renewal of life and the preserving of nature. They got their name from their ability to grow magnificent plant life from any type of ground. Some believed that the founders of the religion had based it upon the religion of the elves that they had met during the war against King Galbatorix.<p>

From afar Yazuac looked like a wild out-of-place jungle in the middle of a sea of plain grass with a river disappearing under the tree canopy and reappearing on the other side. If one were to look more closely, they could just be able to make out small log cabins and low buildings scattered randomly throughout the jungle out of the trees' ways. The buildings were built with a unique architecture that involved having the buildings built off of the ground on high foundations so that they could move the buildings if they were in a tree's growing path. When a tree root would grow and lift the ground around the building the owners would tilt the walls and floors so they would be level with the ground but not the foundation that had been moved by the roots. Actually moving the building elsewhere was something held off until a worse case scenario. As long as they were preserving the nature around them, the Growers were happy.

The entire landscape was astonishing to Walker and Ingothold, but what was more surprising was how welcoming the Growers were to the outsiders. The people crowded in the streets, which were more like widened dirt paths, to see them as they rode by. They applauded and cheered. Ingothold loved the attention. The dragon would flap his wings and make deep rumbling noises from his throat. He hummed with pleasure. Walker couldn't help but to be embarrassed. But the more he looked at the crowd and their smiling faces the more he couldn't help but smile along with them.

"Don't let them fool you," Thomas told Walker.

"Why would they be fooling me?" he asked.

Thomas looked away and mumbled something that sounded like "not here" and said no more.

_**I bet Thomas is just being superstitious like he always is. **_said Walker to Ingothold.

_**He usually isn't this serious when he is in one his superstitious moods though. **_replied Ingothold. _**And quiet too**_.

_**Well, all of the stories do say that the Growers are supposed to be very reclusive, not welcoming.**_

_**Have they been known to be violent?**_

_**They don't believe in using violence under **_**any**_** circumstances. They don't even execute their killers.**_

_**Then they can't hurt us.**_ Ingothold stopped showing off and drew back closer to his rider.

_**There is more than one way to hurt a person. Abigail thought me that.**_ said Walker.

Ingothold looked up at him and started to sing the song and Walker joined in.

They kept singing the song until they came to the Mayor Mansion. The Mayor Mansion was the largest building in the city. It was used for great social and legal events and was the residency of the city's mayor and his family. The building was covered in a thick green vine so it looked like it grew up out of the ground rather than being made of wood just like the rest of the city. It was five stories high and covered around 8 acres with dining halls, bedrooms, hallways, studies, and indoor gardens. Without the most luxurious building materials the Mayor Mansion still managed to look beautiful in its naturalness.

The current mayor, Saint Augustine (like the type of grass), with his small entourage of his family and other high standing men of the town stood waiting on the front steps of the mansion. Rhylite, who led the company, got off his horse and he and Saint Augustine bowed to each other in greeting.

"Sir Rhylite," said Saint Augustine.

"Saint Augustine," replied Rhylite.

"Welcome to our city." Saint Augustine threw his arms wide motioning to the city around them. "This is only the second time in my life that we, the people of Yazuac, have been graced with the company's presence as they travel to Ilirea. The first time was when I was a little boy, no more than three feet tall, and the company took shelter with us from the fierce lightning storm, Elmer. We extended our atypical hospitality then and we shall do so now."

_**Saint Augustine must be around sixty years old. The company should have visited here more than twice in his life time. The company should have come here, like with every other city, several times to present an egg and they should gain Yazuac's hospitality automatically, not because of a storm**_. Walker said to Ingothold.

_**Maybe that's part of what Thomas is refusing to tell us in front of the public,**_ replied Ingothold.

_**Maybe.**_ Walker stole a glance at Thomas. The man, obviously indifferent toward the conversation, was using a knife to clean his fingernails. A few yards in the background, Vesta was glaring at Thomas and then she looked away.

Walker tuned back into Rhylite's and Saint Augustine's conversation.

"Who are the new dragon and rider?" asked Saint Augustine.

"Walker Moransson and his partnered dragon, Ingothold." replied Rhylite.

Rhylite turned back toward Walker and Ingothold and beckoned them down with a hand. Walker stayed still.

_**Well, aren't we going to go down there.**_ inquired Ingothold.

_**I. . .I. . .**_

"Um, em." Thomas cleared his throat to get Walker's attention. He jerked his head toward Rhylite and the mayor. "Get up there," he grunted.

Walker's mouth was dry. His body went numb. He did not remember dismounting his horse or walking over to them but the next thing he did remember was that he was standing in front of them having Ingothold coach him through their connection on how to walk and continue breathing. Having so much attention on him was terrifying.

Saint Augustine extended his hand out to him. Walker stared dumbly at his hand as his mind stayed a complete blank.

_**I believe he is referring to one of your odd human customs of shaking hands.**_ said Ingothold.

"Oh." Walker took the mayor's hand and shook it vigorously. He didn't realize that he had talked out loud until he looked up into their faces. His own face grew hotter than your tongue when you eat a whole mouthful of hot chili peppers.

"It is nice to meet you, Walker Moransson," said Saint Augustine. He opened his mouth to say more but then stopped and closed it leaving Ingothold unaddressed.

_**Well then.**_ pouted Ingothold.

"It is a pleasure for both me and Ingothold to meet you, also," Walker replied. On the surface the comment was the right polite thing to say but Ingothold was satisfied by it on its deeper meaning.

_**You may be shy, Walker, but you do have your moments.**_ said Ingothold.

_**He may not have gotten it.**_ said Walker suddenly ashamed of his comment.

_**I hope he did get it.**_

_**You're much too sure of yourself to be paired to me.**_

_**Maybe I'll rub off on you.**_

_**I think not.**_

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><p>Food. It was no flat bread nor stale squirrel meat. It was freshly baked loaves of bread, pies, fruits that squirt gallons of juice into your mouth, and medium rare steaks with lots of fat and spices sprinkled on top. Walker's and Ingothold's mouths watered at the mere smell that drifted all throughout the mansion. Going from motherly homemade cooking to stale travel food was harsher than people suspect. And now the mayor of Yazuac was holding a lavish banquet for the company serving what looked to be the best food ever placed on this earth.<p>

Walker and Ingothold stuffed themselves with that food. The servants had dragged a stool up to the table by Walker's seat so Ingothold could eat at the table too. They took no part in the conversation at the table nor paid attention. An hour later they laid back into their seats stuffed to the breaking point.

_**Now that's some good food.**_ said Ingothold.

_**It's so good I want to keep eating but I can't.**_ replied Walker.

Ingothold moaned in agreement. His stomach was so full.

_**I think it's time we should go to bed.**_ said Walker.

_**I agree.**_

_**I won't be able to carry you on my shoulders though.**_

They both slowly got up, excused themselves, and left the banquet hall. As they were traveling down a hallway toward the sleeping chambers, they heard Rhylite's voice. His voice sounded so near he must have been right around the corner. He sounded very angry and like it was painful to keep his voice from forming into a full out yell.

"I don't care if she's the sister of a Rider!"

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><p><strong>Did you like it? If you did or have any suggestions PLEASE, Please, please review. You know you want to.<br>**


	10. Reductio ad Absurdum

**Here's the next chapter. Hope you like it.**

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><p>Walker and Ingothold stopped in their tracks. They glanced at each other and each knew what the other wanted to do.<p>

_**You're a bad eavesdropper. Don't try to deny it.**_ said Ingothold.

_**Like you're any better.**_ bit back Walker.

Ingothold prepared to defend but there was no defense to be taken. _**You're right.**_

They crouched near the wall and continued to listen to the conversation around the corner.

"I understand where you are coming from, Rhylite," replied a woman's voice that Walker had never heard before. Her tone was a monotonous calm even as she spoke to the rattled-up Rhylite. "But if we kill her we could upset him. And no one wants an upset Rider."

"I said nothing about killing her. What I meant was detaining her until we can be sure that she won't cause any trouble."

"Do you really believe that you can change her ways if she does prove dangerous?"

A pause. "No."

"And what is to be done to someone that is dangerous and refuses to change their ways?"

"They are to be executed."

_Can that be right?_ thought Walker.

_**It makes sense if you think about it.**_ said Ingothold.

_**But it seems a bit wrong, doesn't it?**_

"Right," said the woman to Rhylite. "Are you really sure that she is even the source of the magic we have been sensing?"

"Yes. I met her at the presenting of the egg and then the next time I saw her she was a magician. I swear that I sensed magic in her. I felt that she is strong too."

"What day did you sense that she is a magician?"

"The 28th."

"That's the same day the magic showed up on our reading."

"Really?" said Rhylite in a mocking tone.

"Rhylite." The woman's tone broke its calmness and peaked with shock as she reprimanded him by merely using his name. "I am not your enemy." She sounded hurt.

Walker heard Rhylite let out a big sigh. "I'm sorry, Elvenia." His voice was softer now. "I'm not mad with you though it may sound like it. I'm angry at the people you work with. Those magicians in the Du Vrangr Gata are educated beyond their usefulness in the area of consequences. They are too educated to act and take a chance for the good of the people because they are so wrapped up in the consequences the action might cause. Sometimes the benefits of a rash action outweigh the consequences. But they don't see that, do they? And they never will." His voice filled with bitterness.

"I agree. But I can also see eye to eye with the Du Vrangr Gata. What happens if this is one of the many rash actions that does have consequences that are catastrophic? And I feel that this could well be one of them."

"Pray tell what catastrophic consequences there are lurking in the future."

"Well, since her magic has just opened, it is very unstable. It could be triggered easily by a very strong emotion, like fear for instance. If she discovers that we are about to confront her she could panic, trigger her magic, and end up killing herself along with others.

"Secondly, her brother is a rider," she continued. "And as I said before _no one_ wants to upset a rider. Need I go on with this point?"

"No," replied Rhylite.

"Lastly, you have no substantial evidence that the one we are looking for is she and the Du Vrangr Gata will not act without that evidence."

"Not even if one senses that he or she is a magician with their own mind?"

"Not even if one of our own senses it. Their word may be taken if it is one of the highest and most educated officials among the Du Vrangr Gata or if more than three competent magicians among our ranks sense it. But an outsider's word is never taken as valid.

"I'm sorry, but there is nothing that the Du Vrangr Gata can do."

Rhylite did not reply.

"Rhylite, this girl has worked you up more than anything I've ever seen do this to you before. What is so special about her?"

For several seconds he did not speak. He heaved a sigh and answered her question in a slow tone. "I've told you before that she is strong, and she is. But what I really mean from that statement is that she is . . . evil."

"What?"

"There are some people that are born into this world with a dark," Rhylite struggled to find the right word, "aura around them, a black spot in their hearts. Everyone is born with an evil part in their mind but these people's evil part of their brain is larger and stronger than normal. They are born to be evil."

"Is that the little boy who grew up in Kuasta that I hear speaking?"

"There is nothing wrong with having a little superstition. Angels and demons do exist. They are what make strange things like this happen. If you would believe, you would see the reality in superstitions."

"Some of your superstitions may be true but I refuse to believe that certain people are to be evil and nothing else. Everyone has a choice on which path they take."

"It's still not right leaving something as dangerous as this to chance."

"Try to start having more faith in your angels," said the woman. It was meant to be a joke but Rhylite didn't laugh.

"Don't worry. Things will seem better in the morning," said the woman.

"We'll see. Goodnight," said Rhylite.

"Goodnight."

When Walker heard Rhylite's footsteps getting closer, he picked up Ingothold and ran into the nearest room with an unlocked door. Luckily it was a storage room empty of people. Once Rhylite passed by, Walker counted to sixty before he opened the door to steal a peek outside. No one was there so they emerged from their hiding place.

_**We didn't get founded out this time.**_ said Ingothold.

_**Let's not have a third time.**_ replied Walker.

_**Like that'll happen.**_

_**What?**_

_**You're a compulsive eavesdropper.**_

_**That's not true.**_

_**Suit yourself.**_

_**I am not.**_

ཕ༹ བ༹

"I'm guessing that you are wondering why I told you to be wary of the people here," said Thomas.

_**You guessed right.**_ said Ingothold.

The company wouldn't be leaving Yazuac until the next day so Walker and Ingothold had decided to use this free day to catch up on much-welcomed rest. Walker had especially been enjoying himself. No training, no hidden secrets, and no near death experiences. If only every day could be like this. But not only could several days not be like this but also no day could be completely like this.

No one had disturbed them until around noon when Thomas knocked on their door. He stood in the hall with the glint in his eye that told he was preparing to relate something interesting.

"Come in," said Walker. Walker would have rather spent the rest of the day as he had spent the morning, without any strange interruptions, but he couldn't really say 'no' to Thomas.

_**He would have come in even if you had said 'no'.**_ said Ingothold to Walker.

Thomas came in and they sat down in some chairs surrounding the empty hearth in Walker's temporary bedchambers.

"What all do you know about the Growers?" asked Thomas.

"I know that their religion is centered around nature, and they usually don't mix well with people, and that they don't believe in violence of any kind," replied Walker.

"I was sure you wouldn't know much about them. Hardly anyone knows anything anymore," said Thomas.

"And how did it happen that you seem to know everything?" asked Walker.

"If someone didn't know everything how would everyone else not know anything?"

_**Beats me.**_ said Ingothold.

_**I don't think I heard that correctly.**_ said Walker.

_**So what do **_**you**_** know about the Growers.**_ Ingothold asked Thomas.

"For one thing they are great actors. Or should I say liars," began Thomas. "That precious act of 'welcoming you' is a perfect example."

"Why wouldn't they want to welcome us?" asked Walker.

"As you know the Growers love nature and growing lively plants. From their point of view dragons are creatures of fire and nothing else. Fire destroys nature. Because of this they hold deep enmity in their hearts for fire and anything that has to do with it, including dragons. They hate dragons enough to refuse to have the dragon eggs presented here."

"Then why did they let us come into their city at all?" said Walker.

"Refusing to present a dragon egg to their city is one thing and denying hospitality to the company is another. If a rider does come from one of the northwest cities, Carvahall, Therinsford, and Daret, their journey to Ilirea includes a pit-stop at Yazuac. Not many riders come from those cities so the company hardly ever has to stop here anyway."

"So they only act friendly because they don't want to get in trouble with the Empire?"

"Yes," said Thomas. "Oh, and there are the dragons and riders also. They would feel down right insulted if the Growers kicked one of the newest additions to their order out into the wild like vermin. And no one wants to insult them."

Walker cringed. What Thomas had just said was very similar to what the woman Rhylite had been talking to last night had said. The dragons and riders were powerful but they were good too. Their mission was to keep peace and balance throughout all of Alagaësia. They worked toward the good of the people. Then why did it seem that people were intimidated by them?

_**Serves them right if they did that.**_ said Ingothold. His comment shocked Walker and Ingothold felt it through their connection.

_**What?**_ said Ingothold.

_**Don't you think that whatever you are implying that they might do is a bit too harsh? They're supposed to be the peacemakers. **_replied Walker.

_**But people can't be allowed to do something like that and go unpunished. Punishments help restore order which **_**is**_** what they are supposed to do.**_

Walker couldn't argue with that but he also couldn't help but to be unnerved by the idea.

"We live in a world of gray," said Thomas. "People try to see it like it is black-and-white, but not me."

Neither Walker nor Ingothold said anything in reply.

_It must be depressing living in gray all of the time,_ thought Walker.

Thomas turned his head slightly to the right as if he was listening to something. _Thud._ Something smashed against the door. Walker rose from his chair but Thomas motioned him to sit back down as he himself got to his feet. Thomas grasped his thick wooden walking stick and stood in a firm stance with his feet apart like he was ready to pounce at the least provocation. For the first time Walker saw the older man as a formidable fighter.

There was a quick blue flash and the doors burst open. A small man in his twenties who looked half-starved hurried into the room. He stopped mid-step and his gaunt face paled when he saw Thomas.

"Brisingr!" he yelled. A ball of bright blue light appeared in front of him and flew toward Thomas. Thomas drew his staff right out in front of him and spun it like a windmill that dispersed the fireball into thin strips of light that faded back into nothingness.

He then spun his staff over his head and hit the intruder on the side of his head with it knocking him down. Thomas pinned him onto the floor by pressing his staff in-between his shoulder blades.

_**Whoever knew that the superstitious storyteller could do that.**_ said Ingothold in amazement.

Walker was so surprised that he could only manage nodding his head in agreement.

"Brisingr," the man yelled again but this time nothing happened.

"Good try," said Thomas. "But I'm afraid your magic has left for a while so those fancy words you call the Ancient Language will not be able to help you out of your current predicament."

A woman came hurriedly through the door. She looked to be in her mid-forties. Her black hair was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck and was graying at the temples. Underneath her cloak Walker saw a fierce-looking blade with sharp nicks all along one of the sides.

"Thank yo-," she began to say but she stopped when she saw whom she was talking to. "Oh. You." she said with sudden prejudice in her voice.

_**Ingothold. That's the woman Rhylite was talking to last night. Their voices are the same.**_ said Walker.

_**You're right.**_

"So much for a 'Congratulations', Elvenia," said Thomas to the woman.

"Thank you," she forced herself to say.

"You're welcome." Thomas gave her a slight mocking bow.

The woman, Elvenia, mumbled a few words in the Ancient Language and the intruder, still lying on the ground pinned under Thomas's staff, went rigid against the floor. "That should do it," Elvenia said. "You may release him. I can take care of him from here."

Thomas drew away. Elvenia leaned over the man and shackled his hands together behind his back with a pair of manacles she had taken from under her cloak. She rolled him onto his back. He couldn't move on his own or speak. The spell Elvenia had cast had completely incapacitated him.

"What did he do?" asked Walker.

Walker was sure this was the first time Elvenia had noticed him in the room but her face betrayed no surprise. But he could see that she hesitated before answering his question.

"Illegal use of magic. He has been casting spells without the proper permission of the Du Vrangr Gata. He belongs to a filthy class of people that can be found in most cities, but not all, that are called street magicians. They act under the Law and use their magic skills to meet their own selfish ends. And the Law takes care of them."

"The Law meaning the Du Vrangr Gata," said Thomas.

"The Du Vrangr Gata specializes in everything magical so it makes sense that they should be the ones to take care of these street magicians," said Elvenia.

"What happens if you have to use magic in self-defense? You wouldn't have time to get permission then," said Walker.

"They would have to be judged by the five Du Vrangr Gata justices who would rule whether or not they had the right to use their magic in desperation," answered Elvenia. "And others have special certificates that allow them to do magic whenever needed without having to go to the council first." She eyed Thomas.

Thomas held up his hands in defense. "I have my certificate."

"But what about your mentor? That herbalist, Angela." said Elvenia.

"The Du Vrangr Gata and the Magic Codes are only accountable to those in Alagaësia and she no longer lives here."

"Really? Lately I've been hearing rumors that she's back in the Empire."

"You can't always trust rumors," said Thomas.

Ingothold snorted.

Elvenia looked over at Ingothold and then back at Thomas. She smiled and shook her head.

"Well, I best be getting this intruder where he belongs and out of your hair," she said. She mumbled some more words in the Ancient Language and the man's body lifted off of the floor and floated out of the door and into the hallway. "Good day." She nodded her head toward them in goodbye and walked away with the intruder floating along with her.

"I'm guessing she has a certificate," said Walker.

"All of the Du Vrangr Gata officials have them," Thomas said bitterly. "If you ask me, the Magic Codes deny people rights that should never have been taken away. But you won't have to worry about such things because all riders get certificates at the end of their training."

_Another reason for people to feel intimidated by Riders,_ thought Walker.

ཕ༹ བ༹

Walker and Ingothold watched as the river-going ship was loaded with supplies for their trip down the Ninor River. They would take the river to Lake Isenstar, past Gil'ead, down south past Bullridge along the western edge of the Hadarac Desert, and then west where they would stop at the small docking city of Nucwae a few miles north of Ilirea. If they were without any serious delays they would make it to the capital in the first few weeks of winter when the first snowflakes would be starting to fall in the sub-North (all land in-between the Northern end of the Ninor River to the Northern border of Surda) while the North would already be covered in blizzards.

Most people were focused on preparing for the long journey ahead, but the one person Walker wanted to see was not there, Rhylite. He scanned the crowd but could not find him.

_**You would think that one of the most important leaders of the company would be here to supervise the packing.**_ said Walker.

_**I don't see why you want to see him. **_said Ingothold.

_**I just want to ask him a few questions about street magicians.**_

_**He's not going to tell you anything concerning this mysterious street magician he was discussing with Elvenia.**_

Walker was getting annoyed by how Ingothold always knew what Walker wanted to do even when Walker didn't want to admit it to him. _I wonder how many riders get annoyed with their dragons,_ he thought.

_**I wonder how many dragons get annoyed with their riders.**_ said Ingothold.

_**I only want to ask a few questions.**_ said Walker.

Walker stood up and started walking around looking for Rhylite. Ingothold came up behind him and climbed up his back and onto his shoulders.

_**You're getting heavier with each day.**_ said Walker.

_**Maybe you're just complaining more.**_

The appearance of Rhylite walking into the stables kept Walker from replying. _What is he doing?_ Rhylite had looked around suspiciously before ducking under the doorway into the stables. The company wasn't taking any horses since most of the journey from here would be done by water. Walker followed him into the stables to find him saddling a brown mare.

"Walker. Ingothold. What brings you to the stables?" Rhylite said without turning around.

Walker jumped in surprise and his tongue fumbled to find words. Ingothold recovered quicker from the surprise and said, _**We should ask the same of you.**_

_**What are you doing?**_ said Walker just to Ingothold.

_**Getting answers, unlike you.**_

Rhylite turned from the mare he was saddling toward them. He looked uneasy. "I have business to attend to so I will not be continuing with you to Ilirea."

"What must you do?" asked Walker after being prompted by Ingothold.

"I cannot say."

"Oh. So this business is very urgent," said Walker.

"Yes. I may be gone for quite a while. May you two have a safe journey." Rhylite finished putting the saddle and saddlebags on and then he mounted the horse. "May you take some of my advice?" he said.

"Of course," said Walker.

"Reductio ad absurdum."

"I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"It means 'Reduction to the absurd'. It's when you take a saying, like 'stealing is always wrong', and then name a situation where the right thing to do is to steal. What I'm really trying to say is that something that is usually right can also be wrong and when it is so, do not be afraid to break a few rules."

"We see what you mean," said Walker.

_**We'll remember that.**_ said Ingothold.

"Until our next meeting. Walker. Ingothold," said Rhylite before riding out of the stables.

_**I told you he wouldn't tell you anything.**_ said Ingothold.

Walker sighed.

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><p><strong>Did you like it? If you did or have any suggestions PLEASE, Please, please review. You know you want to.<strong>


	11. Empathy

**Here's the next chapter. Hope you like it!**

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><p>She seemed… innocent, like she was ignorant of schemes and dangerous underhand plotting. She acted like any other girl her age as she browsed the stalls looking at the last items before the stalls' owners would pack up to leave south the next day before winter came. Her acting was very convincing, but if one had a deeper insight they would see that she was not as naive as she seemed. Rhylite was one of those people.<p>

He kept his distance as he watched her closely. Out of his cloak he took a small plain sealed wooden box. It was like any other box except when acted upon with magic.

"Kodthr kvetha," Rhylite whispered. _Capture sound._ Anything she said or anything someone said to her would be recorded. The sound waves of them talking would be captured and trapped and then could be released so one could hear the conversation whenever they wanted to. The sound waves could also be re-trapped and re-released over and over again.

She stopped at a stall selling ornate glass cups when a man approached her. He looked relaxed though he wore a large cloak in a way to hide his identity.

"Miss Marthasdaughter," said the man.

"It's Abigail," she said without turning to face him. "What are you doing here?"

"The Domia abr kyn wonders about your plans," he replied.

"As I of theirs."

"What is your plan? Where are we to extend our help!" he asked bypassing her comment.

"I'll tell you in time."

"If you want us to help, you need to give us information first."

"You should have inquired about it when we first made our deal." She turned her head to look at him. Her gaze pierced his face. "I will tell you in time," she said more firmly and turned back to continue browsing the stall.

"The Domin does not like being kept in the dark. If we do not know the time, we cannot protect you."

"Cannot or will not?" Abigail picked up a vase and looked at it with an intuitive eye as if bored with the current conversation.

"Our connections _will_ take care of you, but if they have to do it unexpectedly it will be sloppy and not hold. We need the date and the event so they will be ready," the man said.

"The event will remain a secret. Now, concerning the time, I will reveal that right this second, _but_ only if you tell me when you plan on using my connection with a brother."

The man was slow to respond. "We have not decided."

"Then you will get no time in return."

He grabbed her arm and squeezed painfully. "Let me tell you one thing, petty bitch. If you make one false move in betraying us, like making a run for it without paying your end of the deal, we will hunt you down and make you feel consequence's raging fury."

"Did your boss, Edoc'sil, say to specifically tell that to me? Give him the same tidings from me, will you?" She did not disguise the smirk on her face.

The man did not reply. Before letting go, he squeezed her arm more tightly and walked away briskly.

Rhylite closed the box and ended the spell. He had enough substantial evidence to make a case upon to capture and detain her. But he feared that the process would take too long and then they would be too late. The stakes were higher than Rhylite had originally believed. The event Abigail was planning would most likely prove dangerous itself, but what was worse was that the Domia abr kyn would be involved. If she really did have a connection with her brother, they would never let her go. Rhylite had heard of the rare connection that some twins shared.

_If they really do have this connection then the Domia abr kyn could use her to not only hurt Walker but to also hurt anyone around him, _thought Rhylite. _And her brother is a Rider! There's too much at stake to risk running out of time. Something has to be done. _Soon.

Abigail paid for the glass she had been looking at and walked away with Rhylite following behind her. She walked out of the market, down several crowded streets, and then abruptly jerked to the left down into an alley out of sight. Rhylite picked up speed while reaching his mind out to hers. She knew that he was following her and was planning on attacking once he rounded the corner.

As he rounded the corner, he whispered a warding spell. She was standing in the alleyway, waiting. When Abigail saw him she threw the glass she had purchased at him. It deflected off of his ward and shattered against the building's wall. Deep down in her mind Rhylite felt a tinge of fear but neither did she plan on running away or surrendering.

They stood yards apart, facing the other, making no move. Since she had never learned to develop a mind shield Rhylite could easily read all of her thoughts. He knew of her attack long before it came. But he was still surprised. In her casting her spell she had used no words of the Ancient Language. Of course he had assumed that she didn't know any of the language, but he was amazed by how deliberate her attacks were without it. Most did not have that kind of concentration and were blown to bits by losing control of their spells.

The brick stopped a foot from his face and dropped straight to the ground by his feet.

Her eyes now plainly showed her fright. That spell she had cast had already drained her of valuable energy and she could not break his wards. Abigail did the only thing she could do. She ran.

It took only a few steps for Rhylite to catch up with her. He grabbed her by the waist and slammed her to the ground. She clawed and kicked but he was still able to pin her down. He cuffed her left wrist in his handcuffs, got to his feet, and half-dragged her to the building's wall and cuffed her to a protruding pipe. Abigail quickly stood up. She tried to kick him but he moved out of reach.

By the pipe she was cuffed to was a loose brick in the wall. Abigail drew into her mind to find her magic but where it should have been was a dense foggy area. Her magic was lost in that fog, unable to be touched by her. She tried to cast a spell but nothing happened. She was powerless. _What has he done to me?_

She turned toward the man who had attacked her. The last thing she remembered was seeing his balled-up fist coming closer and closer to her face.

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><p>A sharp pain tickled the left side of Abigail's head and her right eye throbbed. Her hands were still bound to some pipe but she was in a different location. She was sitting on the floor propped up against a wall in a dark room. A heavy curtain was drawn across the one window and a lit candel a few feet in front of her provided the only light. Behind the candle sat the man who had attacked her. He sat hunching over his knees staring at her in a chair.<p>

Abigail reached into her mind. The dense fog was still there. _What if it doesn't come back?_ Once she had let the thought in, panic had shot through her whole body. She forced the fear down. This was not the time to panic. If she panicked then there was no hope of escaping from him. _It _will _come back,_ she told herself.

The man sat there motionless. His gaze never left her.

"Who are you?" she asked. She cursed herself when her voice shook.

He didn't reply.

Abigail took a deep breath and tried to calm her mind. "Who are you?" she asked louder.

He still didn't reply.

His silence was getting on her nerves. He had attacked her for no reason; she deserved some answers. "I know that you're not one of the Domia abr kyn," she said. "You used magic to deflect my spells. But if you're not one of them what reason do you have for attacking me in this way. Who are you?"

"My name is Rhylite," he said and then resumed his silence.

"You're obviously not from here. Magic blood does not run in people's families in Carvahall. That's why there are so few magicians here."

"Good observation," said Rhylite. "But not entirely correct. Everyone can become a magician if they look deep enough inside themselves. But there are some people whose magic is more accessible, which is a trait that does usually runs in families. When one becomes a Rider, their magic is pulled closer to their conscious mind no matter whether or not magic runs in their family. But you are right about the absence of magic blood being the reason why there are so few magicians in Carvahall. Doesn't that make you wonder if whether or not magic blood runs in your family?"

"What?"

"You're a magician. And your brother is a Rider."

"I have reached into very deep places in my mind. And magic blood does not affect one's chances of being chosen as a Rider."

"But ancestry does."

"But mine and Walker's family have lived here since the city was rebuilt. We have no distant relatives who live in other cities or have secretive pasts. All of our family lives here. We are as normal as anyone else living in Carvahall."

"You becoming a magician and your brother becoming a Rider is no coincidence. The chance of it being one are very low. The only explanation is if magic blood runs in your family from an ancestor who was a magician, a very powerful one I assume."

"But as I just said 'we have always live in Carvahall; our whole family has'. And we have no long lost relatives," she repeated.

"What about before your family came to Carvahall?" asked Rhylite.

She opened her mouth to reply but stopped for she had no answer. Aunt Luthia had always taken pride in their family history and had told Abigail and Walker tons of their family's stories which had bored Abigail nearly to sleep. But there were no stories about their family before Carvahall or even about how they came to settle here.

_He's probably right,_ she thought. _I could be descended from a very powerful magician. Who knows, I may even be descended from Galbatorix himself, but I doubt that. Maybe my family isn't so boring and normal after all. There may be some old ancestor that I can be proud about being descended from._

"If I do have a magical ancestor from very long ago," she said, "then how did magic go so far down my family line without someone noticing it until now?"

"Carvahall is a very quiet city. There is little reason for someone to have to reach into their mind and accidentally discover their magic," replied Rhylite.

"And I was the first in my family to want to become a Rider," Abigail said, more to herself than to him.

A thought clicked in her head. Over a fifty year period, only three magicians had been found to live in Carvahall all of whom had mysteriously disappeared shortly after them being found out never to be seen again. _And if those are only the magicians that were found out, how many more magicians, who have kept themselves secret, have been captured too? _"You're here to take me out of Carvahall," she said, "just like the others."

"What others?"

"The other magicians from Carvahall. All of them disappeared shortly after their existence was found out. You and whoever you're working for capture them and drag them away from here. Why do you do this? Why not just leave us alone!"

"Because as long as you all are left unsupervised and untaught you are dangerous to the whole community. By doing this, we are merely protecting the people of Alagaësia."

"But once they are taught why not let them go back home?"

"There are more people that are wary of such things as magic that live in Carvahall compared to the other cities. How do you think they would react if some well-educated magician started living among them? Most don't even want to come back in the first place," said Rhylite.

"So you just detain them for the rest of their lives because they're different and 'dangerous'."

"As we train them we get them to work for us. And once their training is over, we offer them a job permanently. Do you still blame us for their decision to stay and work?"

"That still doesn't excuse you kidnapping magicians in the first place."

"We give them a better life. We give them work, a chance to use their magic for good. A number have thanked us for what we do."

"I will never work for you," said Abigail. "And I will never thank you."

"Fine. There's always an alternative."

"What alternative?"

"We detain you in a secure place until you are pronounced no longer dangerous."

"Or in other words : until I agree to work for you."

He shrugged his shoulders. It didn't matter to him either way as long as he was removing a threat.

Abigail's emotions closed in on her. There was no way she would be able to escape from Rhylite with her magic gone, a thought which frightened her. It was also equally frustrating knowing that once she had made her plans to escape from her current 'prison' she was only going to be imprisoned yet again. And this time it would be impossible to escape.

_This can't be happening. It won't happen. I will not let._

_If I can create a distraction, then all I have to do is break out of these cuffs and make a run for it, and with some luck I'll make it. _The cuffs were too small for her to even begin to slide her hands through. Since the chain was small she might be able to wear it away against the pipe. It was a slim hope that only a desperate person would consider. She moved her wrists up and down making the chain scrape against the pipe which produced a loud high pitch screech. _Damn._

"You've got some nerve, or should I say stupidity, if you think that you can break free," said Rhylite. She ignored him and continued sawing the chain against the pipe. "Stop it. It's useless. Give up!"

Shivers went up her spine at his last two words. She stopped dead in her struggling. Her father's voice repeating those words over and over filled her head. A deep rage awoke within her. Most people lived their entire lives without ever harboring the amount of hate that she held.

She would not give up. It was not an option. She would succeed. And she would take him down.

Abigail gave searching the dense mind fog for her magic one last try. Since her rage was so vivid it pushed back the fog enabling her to tap into her magic. The cuffs around her wrists immediately shattered on their own accord. To the second she was out of them, the fog disappeared.

Rhylite jumped to his feet in amazement. No one had ever broken free from those handcuffs nor accessed their magic while wearing them before. She made a run for the door but he quickly ejected a mind attack to incapacitate her. Her mental attacks she ejected in defense were useless because of her ignorance in the area of the mind.

He chose this time to dig into her mind to extract any useful information concerning her plans. Rhylite went through her most recent memories first. He saw her making her deal with the Domia abr kyn and the moment when she unlocked her magic and decided to get her revenge.

His probe was jerked by another force. Abigail took hold of his probe with her mind and pulled it deeper into her mind. She was anxious to do anything useful and that was the only thing she could do. Rhylite passed through all of her older childhood memories, her emotions, her deepest desires, her thoughts, and so on. Her entire being was rushing through his mind. He saw her need for vengeance against her father, the wound in her soul made by Walker, her solicitous longing for freedom, and the devouring fear of that dream never coming true. Nothing about her was hidden from him, not even the deepest parts of her soul. Rhylite broke her hold over his mind probe and drew completely out of her mind. Abigail clutching her head crumpled onto her knees on the floor.

Rhylite stood over her and stared. His gaze had changed because of his new found knowledge of her. No matter how long they would detain her, Abigail would never stop trying to get away, but if they left her alone she wouldn't stop using her magic to accomplish her own ends either. What she was planning to do would not endanger the entire public thought. But he'd advise her against it anyway, but it was her decision to make, though he understood her reasoning behind it. _She won't ever change mind anyway._

_But as long as she continues to use her magic like she is, she is a dangerous liability. In this instance, the only thing to do would be to execute her. _Rhylite took out his knife. _Now would be a better time to kill her. There's no chance in changing her mind and there would be too many times for her to escape if he dragged her against her will all the way to Kuasta. The Du Vrangr Gata doesn't have to know about this either. When they notice her absence, they'll assume that she died some natural death._

Abigail was still kneeling on the floor with her head bowed. Drawing back his knife, Rhylite prepared to strike. Empathy stilled his hand. How could he kill someone he knew so well? How could he kill someone when he understood all of the reasons behind their actions? In her mind what she was doing was just. And if he was her, he would kill too. She was a hurt and vengeful human being and not as evil as he had first perceived.

Rhylite sheathed his knife and sat back down in his chair. Abigail looked up at him. In her mind he sensed that she was readying to cast a spell.

"Go," he told her.

She stopped reaching for her magic but remained kneeling on the floor.

"Go!" he repeated.

She stood up and ran out of the room.

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><p>Abigail ran back home as fast as her legs could take her. When she was a few buildings away from her house, she slowed to a walk and healed her injuries. Once she released the magic she stumbled and fell to the ground in a near faint because of the great amount of energy leaving her. <em>I alone don't have enough energy to cast practically any spells. There must be some great store of energy out there that I'm missing, <em>she thought.

After waiting for the dizziness to pass away, she continued home. Echoing from the kitchen were the sounds of her mother preparing dinner when Abigail walked through the front door. She was thankful that her father was still working so she wouldn't have to face his combing questions asking where she had been all day. It was already twilight, which was way past when she had been expected to be home.

"Abigail, is that you?" asked her mother, Martha, from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mother."

"Where have you been all day?" Martha came into the foyer to meet her. Concern was obviously shown in her eyes.

"I got carried away at the market"

"You've been gone for hours."

"There was lots to see." Abigail hurried up the stairs. "Excuse me," she said as she passed her mother.

"Come back down here."

Abigail stopped and came back down the stairs.

"Are you alright? You look pale," Martha asked her.

"I'm a bit dizzy, but I think that it's just because I'm tired. I don't feel like coming to dinner either, so I think I'll go straight to bed." It was the truth.

"Alright. You are looking kind of sickly. It would be best to get straight to bed, but let me feel your forehead first." Abigail came closer and her mother felt her forehead. "You don't feel warm. Rest may be all that you need. Go and get into bed. I'll bring you up something to eat in a few minutes."

Martha went back into the kitchen and Abigail went up to her room. She changed into her nightdress and crawled into bed. Her eyelids were already beginning to droop when her mother walked in with her dinner. Abigail took the tray eagerly. She had hardly eaten lunch and her stomach was begging for something to be put in it.

When her mother turned to leave Abigail blurted, "Why did you marry Father?" The question had come out of its own accord.

"Because he is a strong, hardworking man that can care for a family," she replied.

"Did you ever want to travel and see the world instead of getting married?"

"No, actually. I know that is what you want to do, but I always wanted to meet the right man, settle down, have children, and die having lived a pleasant life. My dream did come true. I have a strong husband that can protect me and our family, a firm roof over my head, and two lovely children." She reached toward Abigail and rubbed her cheek with her thumb. "I love my life and I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So you agree with Father in that a woman's place is to be a wife and a mother?" asked Abigail.

"Not exactly."

Abigail was surprised that her mother didn't agree with her father's views completely.

"I want you to live your dream, and if you want to travel, so be it. All your father wants is for you to live a happy life. I believe that the key to a truly happy, complete life is family, even if there are many other components too. Do you understand?"

"Yes. But I disagree with you about Father. Even if he only wants me to have a happy life, he's crossed some lines." Abigail couldn't remember the last time she had been so honest with her mother before.

Martha's face looked sad, but she did not object. She kissed her daughter's forehead in goodnight and left the room.

As Abigail ate her dinner she began to feel sad and confused. Her emotions toward her father mushed together. The sensation was frightening so she pushed away the emotions replacing them with her familiar hate. It was easier to be angry. And she liked feeling that way too.

After she finished eating, she laid her head down on her pillow and instantly fell asleep. She did not stir until deep into the night and once awake she could not get back to sleep. The whole day was coming back to her and refusing to leave her thoughts. There were too many confusing things to think about.

_Where did he come from? Who is he working for? How did they find out about me being a magician, and how did they find out about those other magicians too? And how did they get them to work for them? Will they come after me again? How did those handcuffs keep me from casting spells? Why did Rhylite let me go? Am I really related to a powerful magician? _All together it was overwhelming. _I have to think about this one question at a time._

_First question : Who is he working for?_ _What group of people trained in magic would want anything to do with hermit magicians? _The answer came to her and she cursed herself for her stupidity. _The Du Vrangr Gata, of course! They're meant to monitor all magic and to keep order between magicians and non-magicians. And the mirrors! The foggy mirrors! Somehow they sense where magicians live and they use mirrors to spy on them and find out about them so they can capture them. Who knew their way of keeping order was kidnapping magicians and forcing them to work for them like slaves. They restrict magic and kill those who refuse to comply. It's sick. I won't let them catch me. Not again. I barely escaped from Rhylite. Well, I didn't really escape; he let me go._

_Second question : Why did he let me go? After he drew away from his mind, something was different. Well, going through someone's entire soul would change how you look at them and what you do with them. He must have lost his appetite for kidnapping me once he had looked through my eyes and learned where I was coming from._

_Third question : How did those handcuffs keep me from casting spells? They must be made with magic, very powerful magic that takes lots of energy, magic that I could never hope to cast._

The whole day had left her physically drained. _How to find more energy to fuel spells?_ was the question worth answering the greatest. If they attacked again she would need to be way stronger if she would even have a chance of fighting them off.

_Life is energy. Life is all around us, so energy must be too. Rhylite could reach outward with his mind and control other things, so I must be able to do the same. If I can feel energy with my mind, then I must be able to use it for magic._

She tried to reach out off her mind by concentrating on the world outside her window. After several tries she felt her mind loosen from her body. With her mind she reached down to the ground and felt the energy giving life to the grass. She was able to take the energy by wrapping her mind around it and pulling it back to her body. Once it was within her, she used it to make a fireball out of midair. For several minutes, she held it there before the energy loss started to become too much for her and she had to let the magic go.

_It's still not enough,_ she thought.

She reached out again. This time she bypassed the living things that you could easily see and looked for a more elusive store of energy. Abigail felt in her gut that there was something buried very deep in the fabric of the world. _I know that I'll find it._

She searched and searched but did not find it. Her mind was getting tired and soon she could barely keep going. _I'll look again tomorrow._ Abigail closed her eyes and fell once again into sleep

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><p><strong>Did you like it? If you did or have any suggestions PLEASE, Please, please review. You know you want to.<strong>


	12. Chapter 12 AN

_**There it is.**_ breathed Walker

Illirea stood only twenty miles to their right, standing regally in the last rays of the sun. Within the walls, along with many palaces, stood the only skyscrapers in all of Alagaësia. They looked like lone towers standing without their castle. The scene was breathtaking and well worth the journey.

_**It's awfully big, isn't it. Way bigger than Carvahall.**_ said Walker.

_**Not **_**that **_**big. At least to me; I am a dragon.**_ replied Ingothold proudly as he was now the size of a cart.

_**Wait until you see the dwarf cities. Illirea will seem but a speck of dust to them.**_ said Eridor. _**And you are not **_**that **_**big yet.**_

Eridor, with Vesta on his back, was flying next to Ingothold, who was big enough to fly with Walker riding on his shoulders. Their first flight had been when they had stopped at Gilead. Once Vesta had gotten them a saddle, the four of them had taken to the air flying over Lake Isenstar. Flying had terrified Walker, though he was learning to get used to it, while Ingothold complained saying, _**How come when I can't ride on you shoulders you can ride on mine.**_

After a few more minutes of flying, they slowly descended to land in a field right outside of the town, Nucwae. Nucwae was a small port town that lay on the Ramr River's southern banks, a few miles north of the capital. The town's small buildings hugged the river's banks. Very few people lived here and most of them were merchants who handled the trading of supplies coming down the river. It was their last stop before the capital.

"We're going to stay here for the night, then we'll ride into Ilirea in the morning," said Vesta.

_**But we're so close.**_ said Ingothold.

"The city is falling asleep for the day. The people will want to see the new Dragon and Rider, not to have them sneak into the city at night. And besides, most of us are too tired to go on," she replied.

Ingothold was definitely not too tired to go on. He thrummed with energy under Walker, still sitting in his saddle. As always it seemed, Walker felt entirely different.

_Of course, I have to be presented. I knew this would happen._ His stomach still churned with trepidation.

_**If only a Rider could live a life, quiet and peaceful, like a hermit.**_ said Ingothold sarcastically.

Walker gave him a playful mental shove.

Ingothold and Eridor stayed in the field and the rest of them got a place to stay in a nearby inn. With the sun having already gone down, Walker, Vesta, and Thomas reclined in a private sitting area. A fire was lit in the furnace keeping the autumn evening chill at bay. Vesta sat silently on the couch having a conversation with Eridor that they were not privy to. Walker stood at the window staring toward the capital though its image had already faded into the darkness.

Thomas came up to him and said, "Along with my stories of red-eyed rabbits and the Satini, I have to tell this to every new Rider I meet." His eyes lacked their usual glow.

"What is it?" Walker asked.

"Things are never what they are cracked up to be, including the Riders. It's a –."

The sound of dragon wings cut Thomas' speech off. It was too dark outside to see anything, but the sound of shouting men penetrated the walls. Vesta jumped off the couch and looked toward the door.

Footsteps sounded in the inn and the door opened as a seven-foot tall Urgal stepped in. Walker expected for Vesta to attack him but she only looked toward him expectantly.

The Urgal, out of breath, said, "There's been an assassination. The people have started rioting so they put the city into lockdown. I've just been able to escape to tell you."

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><p><strong>First, let me apologize. I'm soooooooo sorry. I always hate it when authors don't post new chapters for months. But I have no right to hate anymore since I do that to. Which I totally understand why this happens. Writing consistently is so hard, especially when you have tons of school work and by the time you're done with it a lot of times you just don't want to write(or think) anymore (or at least that's what happens to me).<strong>

**This chapter was so hard to write for some reason. It should have been easy, but it wasn't. And time flies and it's already November, so I've decided to cut it short so I could post something already.  
><strong>

**I am not doing a hiatus. I am not giving up. But I am going to revise. I started this story with absolutely no plan and I thought I could do it and have it still be good. How wrong I was! I've decided to make atleast a basic plot outline and to revise all of my past chapters before writing any new installments. I hope to do this fairly quickly. I'm going to change a few stuff so you'll want to go back and read the revised chapters.  
><strong>

**Thank you so much also for sticking with me and this story. Your feedback has really been helpful. Thank you!  
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